


save you

by randomfills (spnfanatic)



Series: Dreams of Tomorrow [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/U, Abused Dean Winchester, BAMF Sam Winchester, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Ball Gag, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Broken Dean Winchester, Daddy Kink, Dean Whump, Dick riding, Dom Sam Winchester, Dreams, Flashbacks, Humiliation, Hunters, Hunting is still a thing, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mute Dean Winchester, Name-Calling, Nightmares, Non-Con/Rape Outside of Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Nudity, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rescue story, SPN kink meme fill, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Sub Dean Winchester, Tied-Up Dean Winchester, Time lapses, Unrelated Winchesters (Supernatural), Whipping, boot licking, dream roots, dream walking, implied whipping, multi chaptered, nick is an asshole, no vessels though, shifting pov, there's actually some plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:49:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 24,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23003815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnfanatic/pseuds/randomfills
Summary: Dom Sam wins a very abused Sub Dean at poker.https://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/138983.html?thread=45399271#t45399271Started off as a fill to this kink prompt. Has been expanded with multiple stories in the works, including a sequel.Sam Winchester lost his father last year. Ever since, he's been hunting alone. Until he finds a very abused man in the clutches of a cold, ruthless hunter who goes by the name of Nick. Winning Dean Singer in a game of poker, however, is just the start of a very long, hard road the two men find themselves embarking on...
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Lucifer/Dean Winchester
Series: Dreams of Tomorrow [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1659937
Comments: 45
Kudos: 245
Collections: Supernatural Kink Meme





	1. the gambling type

**Author's Note:**

> taking a minor break from evil sam

Sam scooped up the poker chips from the table. He grinned, showing white perfect teeth at the old, grizzled hunters sitting across from him, all grumbling and pissed off like they thought Sam had cheated. Sam was just that good at poker. It wasn’t his fault the old farts thought they had better skills and better luck than a _Winchester_. John Winchester, Sam’s father, had been good at poker too. Right til he lost to a damn werewolf last year. Sam had never been the same since, deciding to hustle and gamble in towns he was sure he would never come back to.

He honestly didn’t need the money. He had enough to last him for the next few months if needed, but Sam liked playing cards, he liked taking money from men who thought they could lure a kid out of his cash, using his naivety against him. They picked the wrong kid this time. Sam was a good hunter and an even better hustler. He learned from the best after all.

“Fucking Winchester,” an older hunter with dark hair growled from across the table.

Sam thought, _that’s my name, don’t fucking wear it out_. He flashed him his Sam Winchester smile and said, “Hey man, I won, fair and square. I’m gonna haul my winnings out of here unless you want to go again. Double or nothing.”

The guy stared at him like he was considering accepting the deal that was heavily in favor of Sam. He was sure the guy was running out of things to bet. He had taken the last wad of cash out hours ago. But pride made people do stupid stuff sometimes. He leaned forward, peering at the guy under his lashes, upping his charm even more, “C’mon, man. I bet you really want to teach me a lesson, don’t ya? I’ve been hustling you out of everything you have in front of your friends, after all. I’m just a punk kid, right?” Sam knew he was pushing it, saw the guy’s fingers curl.

The guy started to stand but some other guy with blond hair said, “Easy now, Martin.” He looked over at Sam, studying him with dark piercing blue eyes and an easy, lazy smile on his face. Sam leaned back, not liking the way the guy was looking at him. “You’re Sam, aren’t you? Your old man was John Winchester?”

Sam considered him, eyes suddenly suspicious. It wasn’t all that surprising that people knew his father. John was somewhat of a legend among hunters. He took down all kinds of monsters before his death so even though he hardly worked with other hunters, he was considered a pretty damn good hunter. Sam was also making a name for himself. Last year, Sam had killed more than his fair share of vamps and skinwalkers and werewolves. But no one talked to Sam about his father unless they knew Sam personally. “Yeah, what of it? Who are you?” Sam asked, his voice coming out more of a growl than he wanted.

The guy put his hands up in the air in surrender though he still had that smirk Sam really didn’t like. “Whoa, easy there, tiger. I come in peace. Just thought it was interesting the late John’s kid was out here in the boonies gambling with a bunch of drunk retired hunters. My name’s Nick but you can call me Lucifer,” the guy’s eyes were gleaming dangerously. 

Sam balled his hands into fists. “I’m just looking for some quick cash, _Nick_ ,” he said coolly.

Nick licked his lips as he watched Sam. It reminded Sam an awful lot like a predator. Still, Sam was not going to lose his shit because of this guy. He wasn’t all the big, more lean muscle. Sam was sure he could take him in a fist fight. He tried to control himself though, they were still in the middle of a poker game. He thought for a moment if he should just take his winnings and run. But Winchester was no quitter. John taught Sam better than that. “So, are you going to be replacing that sorry son of a bitch?” Sam demanded when Nick kept quiet. 

The guy started to get up again, getting angrier at Sam for his lack of respect but Nick just laughed and said, “Yeah sure. I’ll play you.” He looked at Sam slyly as Sam counted out his chips. “I like you, kid. You make me laugh. Not many can say they’ve done that. Why don’t we up the bets, make it more interesting? More fun?”

Sam frowned, not really liking what he was hearing. It meant Nick was probably out of cash to bet. Did he really clean the whole table? He opened his mouth to decline, he didn’t have time for this, Nick was an asshole and there was something wrong with the dude, he had another hunt he wanted to get to, but before he could say any of those, Sam heard movement. He looked around to see the guys at the table haven’t moved, those some of their eyes darted to the side of Nick.

Nick was hauling someone up to his feet. A guy with blond hair and green eyes and freckles. He was wearing an old, white tee-shirt with lots of holes in them and ratty jeans that looked like they had definitely seen better days. His arms were scrawny and there were cuffs on each wrist and chains that clinked together from the motion. Around his neck was a simple, thin, black band. Sam knew a collar when he saw one.

What the hell was going on? Nick dropped the guy and Sam saw him wince, kneeling beside Nick. His eyes looked up at Sam briefly before dropping to the floor. Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. He had never seen such beautiful green eyes before, but they were haunted. Like the guy had given up hope.

There was no way Sam could unsee what he saw. There were bruises on the guy’s face, on his neck, anywhere that wasn’t hidden. He couldn’t just leave him with Nick.

Sam glanced back at Nick who had been watching him intently. “Well?”

Sam found himself sitting upright in his chair. He scooted forward, and pushed all his chips to the middle. He saw Nick grin. His blue eyes shined with amusement. What a fucking bastard, Sam thought. “If you’re wagering him, I’m all in.”

Sam made up his mind. He was going to save the guy.

“That’s what I like to hear, Sammy,” Nick purred.

“It’s Sam,” Sam snapped as one of the hunters shuffled the cards and dealt them back out.


	2. you're a son of a bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **warnings** : dick sucking, boot licking, humiliation, nick is not nice in this fic

The rules were simple enough. They were to play about 20 hands. They could fold as many times until then if they didn’t get anything good, but if by 20 hands, the game wasn’t finished, they both had to play the last hand. Sam really hoped he’d get something good before then.

Sam had to fold the first couple hands. There was a lot at stake here. He couldn’t care less about the money, but the guy...yeah, Sam had to save him. There was something awfully wrong going on here for a guy to look like that and there was something incredibly sinister about Nick. Something in Sam’s gut told him it was worth sticking around. Sam trusted his gut feeling. It was very rarely ever wrong.

Nick was humming under his breath as he folded a hand. He looked to the side, to the guy kneeling beside him looking like he was barely even aware of what was going on. Sam pretended not to notice when Nick gripped the guy’s head and dragged him under the table. “Be useful and take care of your master,” Nick told him, and Sam understood the implication. He gripped the cards in his hands tightly, trying to control the anger boiling in him. He needed to focus on the game. Nick looked over him smugly, breath hitching as the ‘slave’ got to work. “That’s real good, Dean. You’re making your master very happy.”

As much as Sam hated the display of dominance, he at least got a name. Dean. That’d be useful to know. “So, how long have you had Dean?” Sam asked after a moment, finally fed up with hearing Nick moan when they were supposed to be playing poker. 

Nick grinned. “Oh, you mean my slave here? Hmm, I don’t honestly remember,” Nick leaned back in his chair. He sighed contentedly as Dean continued to suck him off under the table. “It’s been at least a couple years though. Am I right, Dean?” He looked down watching with darkened eyes as Dean took him all the way, green eyes vacant and unseeing. Nick gasped, feeling the heat of Dean’s mouth.

“Ok, dude, we’re in the middle of a game here,” Sam snapped, frustrated that Nick was getting off in the middle of an important poker game. He shot a worried look at Dean under the table. He was going to fucking win him and get him far away from Nick. “And slavery’s illegal.”

Sam sat there, disgusted, as Nick pushed Dean off his dick and covered his face with cum. _What the fuck?_ Nick tucked himself away after a moment and straightened up as he looked at Sam with an amused smile. “He’s not my actual slave, Sammy. Well not in the literal sense anyway,” Nick said. “Dean here is my 24/7 sub. Ain’t that right, partner?” Sam really wanted to wipe that smug look off the asshole’s face. And what kind of self-respecting dom treated his sub like that?

“I’m all in,” Sam said coolly, gripping the new cards he’d been dealt, trying to ignore when Nick’s boot jabbed Dean in the side. The sub was kneeling under the table, trying hard not to move but even when Sam glanced down at the sound, he could see Dean wince a little. Most hunters wore steel toe boots, so the kick must have hurt.

“You must have something really good, Sammy,” Nick said, leaning forward. 

Sam glared, hoping to intimidate Nick. It didn’t work. The fucker just laughed. “You can see for yourself.”

Nick tossed his cards. “I don’t need to see your cards to know I probably don’t stand a chance. I fold.” He looked back down at Dean under the table. Sam tensed as he watched Nick gesture for Dean to crawl back over to him. He looked back at Sam, his smile turning sadistic before he suddenly reached down to grab Dean’s hair and shove his head down to his boots. “Lick,” Nick commanded.

Dean didn’t even hesitate. His tongue darted out to taste Nick’s boot. Sam could feel his anger coil just under his skin like a snake as Dean started to lick the boots like a desperate dog, Nick’s hand still pressing Dean down hard. This was fucking ridiculous. 

“You don’t treat a sub like this!” Sam blurted out, couldn’t hold back his anger anymore.

Nick just chuckled as he shoved Dean harder. “Keep licking, slave,” he told Dean. “Trust me, Sammy, this is all consensual. Dean gets off on humiliation. It’s all in the contract. I can show it to you. He signed it and everything.”

“It doesn’t look all that consensual to me,” Sam shot back. “He’s got bruises everywhere and he looks pretty damn scared of you.”

“Oh, please,” Nick snorted. “Every one of these bruises had been earned. As a dom, I have to make sure my sub behaves. It’s pretty obvious, Dean, here had to have many lessons. I’m just fulfilling my duty as a good dom.” Nick finally kicked Dean off his foot. “Dean, dear, come here and let’s give a demonstration to our new friend, Sammy.”

Sam huffed in anger as Dean obediently crawled from under the table to stand next to Nick. He was taller than Sam realized when he was standing at full height, probably not as tall as Sam but still. It took Sam by surprise. Nick gestured for Dean to take off his clothes and it finally dawned on Sam what Nick meant. 

He shook his head, going to stand but was stopped by a gruff looking hunter who sat to his left. He’d forgotten there were people around. Sam slowly sank back in his seat. “You really don’t have to do this,” Sam grumbled not liking how Nick was treating Dean like an object. There wasn’t much Sam could do though if Nick was right and Dean was consenting to all this. It wasn’t like Dean was saying ‘no’. He hadn’t once uttered a word since Sam sat down to play poker with them.

Suddenly Sam was having second thoughts. Dean had been with Nick a long time. What if they were in a consensual master/slave relationship and Dean just took his role very seriously? But he had seen Dean wince, seen the vacant look that didn’t come from being in subspace. It was a look that came from years of abuse. If Dean would just say something. Anything to let Sam know what was really going on.


	3. he ain't your sub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be the only chapter for today. I'll write some more tonight but I've got to get a class soon and then watch a play. I realize the chapters are short.
> 
>  **warnings for this chapter** : nakedness, dick riding, name calling, daddy-kink, Nick still being a complete douche

“C’mon, Dean. Put a show for Sammy-boy here,” Nick purred as he watched Dean take his shirt off with practiced grace. 

Sam gulped, already sporting an erection. This was wrong but he knew Dean wouldn’t stop unless Nick told him too, so Sam had to sit there as Dean pulled his pants off, letting pool around his ankles, now completely naked. Sam tried not to gasp at all the cuts and scars he saw on Dean’s bare skin. He didn’t care what Nick said, there was no way all of that had been consensual.

 _This is messed up_ , Sam thought. He looked over at Nick who was very much enjoying the show. “Look, Nick, we have 10 more hands to play. We should probably concentrate on the game,” Sam said, trying to stay as calm as he could.

Nick’s grin was like a shark’s. All sharp teeth ready to bite. “Oh don’t be a killjoy. We are playing the game, Sammy. And we’re also having some fun in the meantime,” he looked back over to Dean, pulling him in. Ruffling his hair, Nick whispered, “Isn’t that right, Dean-o?”

Dean nodded, the movement mechanical. “See? We’re all having fun here, Sammy,” Nick said cheerfully. Sam resisted the urge to slam the asshole’s head into the table. Nick turned his attention back to Dean with a smirk, “Why don’t you sit on your daddy’s lap and ride me, huh, Dean? Keep me nice and warm like a good slut?”

Dean waited until Nick unzipped his pants again and pulled out his dick, fully hard and leaking, much to Sam’s disgust. Then he climbed onto Nick’s lap and sank down on his dick. He moaned as Nick thrust up, getting fully seated and comfortable.

Sam knew what was coming next when he saw Nick look at him through hooded eyes, letting Dean bounce a couple times on his dick. “See? Dean wouldn’t be moaning like a porn-star if he wasn’t happy with this arrangement,” Nick said. He thrust up again and had Dean whining, a high pitched noise that almost didn’t sound human. Sam shuddered as it reminded him more of a wounded animal.

“If you’re so happy with him, why are you willing to bet him in a game of poker?” Sam challenged.

Nick snorted. “As if you’re going to beat me, kid.”

“And what if I do? I’ve been known to surprise a lot of people because they underestimate playing a _kid_ ,” Sam shot back. “And especially don’t underestimate a _Winchester_.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. Even through the pleasure of having his dick ridden, Sam could see the anger simmering just below the surface. “Oh please. I know all about you and Daddy dearest. You think you’re the best damn hunters on this planet. Think you own whatever joint you walk into and you’re some kind of hero because you ‘hunt things and save people’. Well I got some news for you, pal, your daddy’s 6 feet under just like your mommy and you’re just a punkass kid and I don’t fucking lose to punkass kids.”

Holy shit so that was what this was about. He had some kind of grudge against Sam and John, and well...John was dead so he was going to take all his anger out on Sam now. Still if his beef was with Sam, it didn’t give him the right to treat Dean like that. Sam was even more determined to win and save the guy. 

“You don’t know anything about my family,” Sam said as he was given new cards. “And if your beef is with me, take it out on me, not him.” His eyes lingered on Dean. He tried not to grimace as he saw multitudes of scars on Dean’s back that looked a lot like they came from a whip.

“What makes you think this is all about you?” Nick asked lazily. “Keep riding me, slave. That’s it. That’s so good.” Sam hated that Nick was dividing his attention between the two of them, keeping Dean in the game too. “No need to get jealous, Sammy. It’s not a good look on you. Like I told you before, Dean’s just some side entertainment. Our game is still the main attraction. I know how much you want to ‘save’ him, poor damsel in distress that he is.” He paused for a moment, eyes flicking back to Sam. His grin was infuriating. “You know, it’s true. You and your daddy really have this annoying martyr complex going. And look where that put him. You don’t want to follow in his footsteps, Sammy. You really don’t.”

“Man you really like to talk a lot,” Sam complained, ignoring the jab. “Are you folding or what?” He was starting to understand Nick’s game a little more and he was determined not to play into it. 

Nick glanced down at his cards before tossing them. Sam wasn’t sure what he was trying to do here. They only had a few more hands left and Nick hadn’t once tried to go in. He seemed too determined to mess with Sam’s head, enjoying this game of cat and mouse they were playing. Sam watched as Nick thrust up, gasping as he pumped his load into Dean. Dean for his part threw his head back and moaned loudly. 

“That’s it. Milk daddy’s cock, slave. Good boy. That’s a good boy,” Nick praised, reaching up to pet Dean’s sweat drenched golden hair.

Sam ignored the tightness in his pants at the display. “We’ve got 5 more hands to play,” he reminded Nick.

“Relax, Sammy,” Nick said, still lazily stroking Dean’s hair. “You really should loosen up, take that stick out of your ass. Oh, I know. You want a sample? I mean you’re not going to beat me so the least I can do is share. Show you that I can be a ‘good’ person too, maybe not a hero like your daddy, but hey, not everyone can be perfect,” he shrugged and then added with a grin, “or dead.”

“No thank you,” Sam said quickly, ignoring the last part. He didn’t want Dean or Nick to see he was already sporting an erection so he scooted forward some more. 

Nick raised an eyebrow, his grin widening with glee. Oh he already saw it. Sam was not getting out of this unscathed. “Whatcha got there, sport?” Nick leered. “An erection? Thinking some naughty thoughts about poor, abused Dean-o here? Thought you were here to save the poor soul from the big bad wolf.” Nick was leaning over now, his eyes dark and intense. 

Sam gritted his teeth. “I didn’t want one. It’s completely natural for me to get an erection after everything you’ve put on. And I’m still going to take Dean away from you because you’re a sadistic fuck who doesn’t deserve any subs,” Sam growled.


	4. going to save him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be another shorter chapter coming out later tonight I think. I have every intention of finishing this story so don't worry. :)

“Geez, Sammy, no need to be a spoilsport. Alright, then. Let’s do this then. You and me. No more distractions.” Nick looked over to Dean and snapped his fingers. Instantly Dean went back to kneel next to Nick on the floor, his head bowed in submission. “Don’t worry, Dean-o. When we get home, I’ll play with you all night, just the way you like.”

Sam pretended not to see Dean’s body shudder at those words. He was still there somewhere. “I fold,” Sam declared loudly, attracting Nick’s attention.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Nick said as he looked down at his new cards. 

They had 4 more hands to go before they had no choice but to play them. Sam really hope he’d get something good. He glanced from his cards to Nick. The guy didn’t look a bit worried. He sat back in his chair, relaxed and grinning. The only time Nick showed any emotion was when he was yelling at Sam about him and his dad.

Sam cleared his throat. “So about earlier. You were talking about my dad like you knew him personally.” Sam knew John hadn’t always hunted alone. Sometimes he had help from other hunters if Sam wasn’t around. It wouldn’t be out there if one of the hunters had been Nick.

Nick raised an eyebrow as he considered answering. “Yeah, I knew John. I ran into him chasing a wendigo once. He used me as bait,” Nick’s eyes went dark for a moment as he remembered the case. Then he plastered his grin back on. “But in the end we managed to light that sucker up. Your daddy was a good hunter who liked to use people. Bet the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Right,” Sam said. He tossed his cards on the table. Nothing good again and he was running out of turns. They were dealt a new hand. 3 more to go. He looked down to see he had pockets As. “I’m going all in.”

Nick looked down at his cards. “Well looks like this is it. Go home big or not at all, that’s what they say, am I right, Sammy?” 

Nick was just trying to get under his skin at this point. Sam refused to play into his hand. He was not going to get roiled up. He wasn’t going to beat the shit out of Nick here, not in front of so many people. Besides the hunters on either side of him looked like they were itching for a fight. Sam wasn’t going to risk getting kicked out of this bar and away from Dean over a stupid brawl, no matter how much Nick may deserve it. 

“Are you throwing in then?” Sam asked.

Nick’s grin widened. “You know me all too well, Sammy,” he purred. He glanced at the guy who dealt them the cards and nodded for him to flip the rest of the cards over. Finally. They were playing and the stakes were high. Sam could feel his heart thump loudly. He really hoped luck was on his side.

The first three were an ace spade which was good for Sam. He landed a trip at least. Then came the queen of hearts, and king of diamonds. He watched as Nick grimaced which was definitely a good sign. He didn’t have anything good and Sam was going to win. The hunter flipped another card over and it was a 3 of diamonds. The last card was a 7 of spades.

They both turned their hands over and Sam stood up proudly when he saw Nick only had a King and 10. He fucking beat the bastard. “I think I’ll collect my winnings now,” Sam said.

Nick narrowed his eyes. “You’re a cheating bastard,” he accused.

Sam had to laugh and shook his head. “No. I won fair and square. Now I’ll be leaving with Dean. Don’t follow us.”

Sam went over to Dean who hadn’t moved from his spot. “Hey, man, I’m setting you free now. You don’t have to be with that bastard anymore.” Dean didn’t budge, it didn’t even seem like he heard Sam. Sam frowned and looked up to see Nick’s smug face. Bastard. “Tell him that you’re no longer his master,” Sam demanded.

Nick knelt down and grabbed Dean by his hair, pulling his head up so that green eyes were staring into deep ocean blue. “Slave, you’re going to be leaving with a new master today. Do you understand? Go with Sammy,” Nick commanded. He let go and Dean slumped to the floor like a rag doll.

Sam stared down at Dean. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was getting an empty body. It made him shudder to wonder how Nick must have treated him over the years for him to act this way. “Hey, Dean, come on, man,” he said once he got his voice back, shaking Dean gently on the back, trying not to disturb any fresh looking cuts. He tried not to cringe thinking about all the whippings Dean must have endured to have his back look like this. No one deserved this.

“What the hell did you do to him?” Sam asked angrily as he looked back up at Nick.

Nick stood up and stretched. He shrugged, “He had to get punished a lot. Not my fault he can’t seem to behave unless we’re out in public. You know, Sammy, I think I’ll let you keep him after all. He hasn’t been as much fun lately. He likes to just lay around like the dead. Not as much fun in the bedroom, if you catch my drift.” He made a face. “He was much more fun years ago. He had more fire back then. So yeah, keep him. You’re doing me a favor. And if you ever manage to bring him back out of that pathetic shell, he’ll realize he can’t live without me and come crawling back to me anyways.”

“Yeah well don’t fucking count on it,” Sam said, trying hard to hold his anger in. The more he heard about their relationship, the more he just wanted to punch the bastard.

“He was a pretty good lay back then. Sweet kid, new to hunting, you know how it is. Thought I could show him the ropes. As you can see, I did more than that,” Nick taunted. “We screwed a bunch of times between hunts before we decided to be more exclusive. Should’ve met him back then, Sammy. He was hotheaded, blaze of glory kind of guy. Hm...actually he was much like you.” Nick was leaning into Sam’s personal space. His eyes dark things as he stared at Sam. “Bet you could be a good lay too, huh, Sammy?” That was the last straw.

Screw the no brawling rule. Sam didn’t care if he got kicked out. He would just take Dean and run anyways, but not before he punched the asshole at least once. Sam curled his fingers and swung his fist into Nick’s face. He heard the crunching of bones, felt Nick’s nose against his knuckles. 

Nick was screaming in pain, stumbling back and holding his bloodied face.


	5. here we go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter tonight. 
> 
> **warnings:** violence, nudity

Holy shit. Sam stared down at his bloodied knuckles. It felt good punching the asshole and sure his hand was forming bruises from the hit, but it was well worth it in Sam Winchester’s book. He looked up at Nick who was still holding his face, blood dripping through his fingers. He looked angry and in pain.

“You’re a fucking dead man, Winchester,” Nick growled. 

He looked ready to pounce but Sam was faster, delivering a hard kick to his stomach. Nick fell to his knees, eyes wide in shock. Sam crouched in front of him, grabbing hold of Nick’s shoulder and tightened his grip when he felt Nick try to move. Nick hissed in pain but Sam didn’t let go. He wanted to make his point clear. “Listen here, Nick,” Sam sneered, shaking Nick like a rag doll. “You’re gonna be fucking sorry if I catch you anywhere near Dean. I’m going to take my money and Dean and his contract, and none of you are going to follow us.” Sam shot a glare at the other hunters, watching as some of them shifted uncomfortably in their seats. One of the hunters, Martin, who had scrambled to help Nick, cautiously made his way back to his chair. He eyed Sam wearily, realizing for the first time Sam wasn’t playing around.

“If you’re going to fight, take it outside,” the bartender said, cleaning an empty glass.

Sam let go of Nick and stood up. “Sorry, sir. We’re done here,” he told the guy. “Don’t mean to cause any more trouble.”

“You better not,” the bartender said. Sam took a closer look at him. He was gruff and old with thinning hair. He was eyeing Sam with suspicion. It was probably due to his hand, still bruised and dripping with fresh blood.

“I’ll be out of your hair in a minute,” Sam assured him. He waited until the bartender turned back around to take another customer. Then he went back to collect his cash and Dean. He crouched back in front of Nick who was still slumped against the table. “Where’s Dean’s contract?” he demanded.

Nick stared at him for a moment and he must have seen something in Sam’s eyes that made him think better of whatever he was thinking of doing because then Nick was slowly reaching down into his back pocket while Sam tensed, hoping it wasn’t a knife or something. It was a folded piece of paper. Nick handed it over to Sam silently.

Sam took it and unfolded it to make sure. Thank god for small mercies. He folded it back up and pocketed it. Nick had been telling the truth, or at least part of the truth. Dean had signed a contract with him agreeing to be whatever this was. But it was obvious Nick took advantage of Dean’s consent over the years. It turned abusive and that was messed up, that was wrong. Sam was going to fix this.

He turned back to Dean who was still sitting, naked. Sam gathered his jeans and tee shirt. They were old and dirty and had more holes in them that there was no way they could protect Dean from the chill outside, but it beat being naked, so Sam had to make do for now. “Dean,” Sam said softly, trying to grab his attention. Dean didn’t say anything, didn’t even move. “Dean,” Sam said louder. Still no reaction. Sam sighed and took place both of his hands on either side of Dean’s head so that Dean had no choice but to look at Sam.

Empty green eyes stared back at him. Sam tried to pretend that the look didn’t bother him. “Dean, listen to me. I’m your new dom now. My name is Sam. We’re going to get out of here, but first, I need you to do as I say. Ok?” He waited a beat before continuing, “I’ve got your clothes here. They aren’t much. But I need you to put them back on.”

Dean still didn’t move and Sam frowned before hearing Nick chuckle behind him. “You’re going to have to be more commanding than that, Sammy.” Sam whipped around to see the lazy grin on Nick’s face was back. “He listens better to more direct commands. Dunno why. I always chalked it up to daddy issues.”

Sam was getting really tired of listening to Nick at this point. Without saying anything, Sam slammed his fist into Nick’s face again, knocking him out. Sam sighed in relief, relishing the quiet. He turned back to Dean who was still limp. It was worth a shot.

“Dean, listen to me. Put your clothes back on.” He paused, then added, “Now.” For good measure.

It worked like Nick said. Dean started to move instantly, taking his clothes back from Sam and standing up to put his jeans and shirt on. The bartender was watching them from his perch and Sam felt a chill run up his spine. This was his first time at the bar but when he joined the other hunters at the table, it seemed like everyone here knew each other. The bartender had been eyeing Dean since Sam joined which had been at least an hour now. He didn’t seem perturbed with the way Nick treated Dean, didn’t raise a complaint until Sam started a fist fight.

They were leaving now. He grabbed Dean’s hand and said, “Let’s go, Dean.”


	6. on the road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written at least 2 more chapters so this story will be updated again later tonight. I think this story is going to be about 15k-20k words. We'll see.

“Get in the car, Dean,” Sam ordered. He held the door open as Dean climbed into the front passenger seat. He closed the door behind Dean and went to the driver’s side. Sam wasn’t much of a car kind of guy. It was just something that got him from point a to point b. But after John died, Sam couldn’t find it in him to part with it. His father loved the chevy impala. It had been passed from his father down to him, then down to Sam. So Sam figured the least he could do was keep it. 

He had a picture of him with his dad sitting on the hood of the impala, John holding a rifle and smiling. Sam was 14 at the time. They were about to drive out to the country and star gaze. It was one of his favorite moments with dad. The photo was old and worn and was sitting on the dashboard. 14 year old Sam had a wide grin on his face that was bright and innocent.

Sam turned the engine on, reminiscing on days when John was still alive, he always knew what to do and say to make Sam feel better. He glanced over to the passenger seat where Dean was sitting. When all the cuts and bruises healed, Sam was sure he’d look angelic. He was still pretty with bright green eyes and golden hair and freckles covering his nose, but all Sam could think about was what Nick had told him. It made him mad and he decided it was finally time to put this god forsaken town behind them. He peeled out of the parking lot.

Sam wasn’t sure where they were going at this point. He hadn’t decided yet. He just wanted to put as many miles as he could between them and Nick. He glanced back over to Dean. It had been at least another hour and the guy hadn’t said anything to him. He was just staring blankly at the road. Sam wasn’t sure if Dean was really even looking at the road, his mind was probably somewhere else. He just wasn’t quite sure where.

“Hey, Dean, want to listen to some music?” Sam asked after another 30 minutes of silence. Of course he was met with more silence. He sighed, realizing he hadn’t eaten all day. He wondered how long Dean had gone without food or water. Sam noticed a diner coming up and got ready to turn off the road.

Sam parked in the far of the parking lot before he turned the impala off. He turned to Dean, realizing too late that Dean was still in his ratty clothes with bruises on his face and wearing cuffs around his wrists. Sam carefully took the collar off, the clasp had been behind his neck and was easy to undo if you had two working hands. The cuffs came off almost as easily. When Sam slipped them off, he could see the redness around his wrists and couldn’t help but wince, wondering how long Dean had them on.

Dean was still a long way from looking like a normal person. He was barefoot, didn’t come in with Nick with any shoes or socks that Sam had seen. His feet had small amounts of blisters that had Sam wondering how he was able to walk without any indication of pain. His throat was red and sore and bruised from wearing the collar for a long time and whatever else Nick did to him as punishment.

There was no way Sam was going to be able to get him into the diner without raising questions. He decided they were going to need a quick makeover first. Sam started the engine back up and drove them to the nearest Wal-Mart which just happened to be a few miles down the road. 

He got out of the car and said, “Stay here, Dean. I won’t be gone long.” He didn’t wait for a reply knowing he wouldn’t even get one. He shut the door and locked the car before heading inside. Luckily Sam wasn’t gone too long and nothing significant really happened. He came back out with a bag full of clothes that were more or less Sam’s size. He didn’t know what size Dean was but he figured he wasn’t much bigger than Dean. Worst case, the clothes would be a little loose on Dean but that wouldn’t be the end of the world.

He got him a large hoodie that could cover his arms and baggy jeans, long white socks and boots. Sam could explain away why Dean was mute and had bruises on his face. _We’re brothers and he got into a fight. You should’ve seen the other dude._ Sam sighed as he opened the bag and faced Dean. “I got these for you,” he told Dean. Dean didn’t even blink. “Put them on,” Sam ordered.

It took Dean what felt like an agonizingly long time, what was probably only 5 minutes, but eventually he was in the hoodie, jeans and boots. “Looks good, Dean,” Sam said with a smile. They headed back to the diner after that.

They must have looked like an odd couple. Sam was tall, with long brown hair and warm hazel eyes and a smile that could charm the pants off anyone he talked to if he really tried. He wore a black leather jacket that belonged to John, over a plaid gray tee shirt, and tight jeans. He had an arm around Dean, leading him up the steps to the diner. Dean in baggy jeans that looked minutes away from falling down, a dark blue hoodie that hid a scrawny frame of bruises and bones, a couple bruises on a somewhat gaunt face. 

Sam just smiled at the host, a man in his early 20’s, looked like he was in college, dark hair and eyes and an awkward smile as he looked between the two. “He's my brother and he got into a fight. You should've seen the other guy," Sam joked. "Mind if we grab a booth?"

The young man just nodded. “Right this way, sir.”

And they were led to a booth in the far corner. It was perfect. Sam steered Dean toward it easily. He ordered a coffee for himself and water for Dean. Looking through the menu, he really wished Dean would say something. He hated the stares they were getting. He hated not knowing what was going on inside Dean’s head.

After eating, Sam decided he was going to need some help getting Dean out of his shell. He knew where he was going to have to go next. Nebraska. The Roadhouse. Ellen Harvelle would probably know what to do. If not, she’d at least be able to advise on who Sam could call to help him. 

Sam sighed. They had a long drive ahead of them.


	7. to the roadhouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written quite a few chapters and I've outlined the rest. I'm going to try to post 2 or 3 chapters per day until this story is complete. Thanks for sticking with me so far. 
> 
> Just to warn you guys, this is where the POV change takes place.

The Roadhouse was one of the few bars in Nebraska meant for hunters. Ellen Harvelle worked hard in the hunting community. Her husband was a hunter before he died and Ellen figured this was a good way to honor him. She wasn’t really a hunter but she knew hunters and they tried their damndest to save as many people as they could. Her daughter, Jo, also worked at the Roadhouse, though the girl looked like she was itching to go out and become a hunter herself, follow in her old man’s footsteps so to speak. Over Ellen’s rotting corpse though.

There was no way Ellen was going to let her little girl go off and get herself killed like her idiot husband, Bill. She wasn’t going to let anyone tempt her down the path of the damned. Like a Winchester or anybody else. That was why when Sam Winchester came barreling through the doors of the Roadhouse on a quiet, Thursday evening like the devil himself was right on his heel, dragging what appeared at first glance a lot like a dead guy, Ellen had her rifle up and pointed at Winchester’s head, staring at him with eyes that dared him to make a move.

“Well if it isn’t Sam Winchester,” Ellen said in greeting.

“Hey, Ellen, just the woman I was looking for,” Sam said. He was still shouldering the seemingly dead body. Ellen couldn’t get a good look at it with the hoodie covering up most of its body but the guy wasn’t moving an inch. It sure didn’t even look like he was breathing.

Ellen raised an eyebrow, pointing the rifle toward the body Sam was holding up. “What’s that guy’s story?”

“I uh...this is Dean,” Sam said awkwardly. “Mind if I…?” He trailed off, looking pointedly at an empty table nearby.

Ellen sighed and lowered her rifle. “Go ahead,” she said. Once they got situated at a table, Ellen walked over to turn the sign over to ‘closed’ on the Roadhouse. There wasn’t much activity tonight so she figured she could take a hit closing it up early. She went over to the other side of the bar and pulled out a couple beer bottles. She handed one to Sam and he thanked her. He shook his head when Ellen raised an eyebrow, offering his companion a beer as well.

“He doesn’t really drink,” Sam said, pulling off the cap and chugging half the beer down.

Ellen shrugged and twisted the cap off and took a sip herself. She sat down across from Sam. He looked good since the last time he and his dad rolled into town. She looked over to Dean and wondered what happened to him. Up close, she could tell he was breathing, but he hadn’t said a word. “Can he talk?” Ellen asked.

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed. “I just...I don’t know what to do, Ellen. I came here because I need help. I won him in a poker game from some hunter named Nick. And Ellen, the guy was a complete asshole. If he wasn’t human I would’ve shot him on the spot.”

This was news to Ellen. “Boy, you’ve been real busy since you’ve been gone, haven’t you?” She looked over at Dean again, taking in the bruises and cuts and the dark scarring around his neck. Kid sure looked like he’d been through hell. “I’ve seen that Nick fella a few times,” Ellen confessed. “Guy’s a real piece of work, that’s for sure. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this kid with him though.”

Sam shook his head. “From what I gather they’ve been together for a little while at least but with the way Dean is, Nick probably doesn’t take him out all that often.”

“How do you figure?” Ellen asked, leaning forward.

“Well Nick’s a hunter. And no offence to Dean...but,” Sam trailed off, shrugging.

“He could’ve used him as bait,” Ellen said darkly. She was surprised to see Sam stare at her in confusion. Ellen shrugged, standing up to grab a smoke. She figured she wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight. It would help relieve some stress. “Don’t look so surprised, Winchester. You know how hunters are.” Ellen didn’t mean it as a jab but she couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped out.

Sam seemed to brush the comment off, standing as well. When he noticed Ellen grabbing her lighter, he followed her. “Mind if I join?” Sam asked.

Now it was Ellen’s turn to be surprised. She raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you smoked,” she said.

“I don’t usually. Just sometimes,” Sam replied. Ellen could see the tension in his muscles, didn’t bother to ask him to clarify as she wordlessly handed him a cigarette and they both walked out to smoke.

She hadn’t seen Sam in a while, but she knew that John was dead. Got himself killed by a werewolf, the arrogant bastard. Sam was looking good all things considered though. Besides all the stress from having to deal with everything by himself. They stood outside of the Roadhouse together and Ellen didn’t mind the quiet.

She figured she earned this, this calm, even if it was before the storm. Jo had taken off early tonight, which was lucky or unlucky, however you want to see it, for Ellen. Ellen really didn’t need to deal with her daughter’s enamorment over a Winchester in the midst of the chaos Sam brought with him. It was really never easy when a Winchester was involved.

“So how’ve you and Jo been doing?” Sam finally asked, exhaling puffs of smoke.

“Oh you know us. Been pretty busy at the Roadhouse. Just abnormally quiet tonight,” Ellen said.

“Oh? Why’s that?” Sam turned to look at her, intrigue twinkling in hazel eyes.

He really looked like John Winchester at that moment. The jacket he wore, black and leather, belonged to John. Ellen remembered John wearing it when they first met. Bill had come barging in, dragging a gruff looking John behind him. They shared stories about some nearby hunt of a wendigo over burgers and beers. Ellen never understood why anybody was happy to go rushing to their deaths chasing monsters but Bill loved it and John seemed like a good guy, maybe a little rough around the edges, liked to talk big and drank a little too much for her taste but he helped people and killed stuff no regular person would so he was a good guy in her book. 

And Sam, well he may have his puppy eyes and long hair, smiled a hell of a lot more than John ever did, but he definitely took after his father.

Ellen frowned. “Didn’t you hear about the rampant demon attacks lately?”

“No,” Sam said simply, taking another puff. “I’ve been,” he eyed the entrance to the Roadhouse, toward Dean, “busy lately. Sorry.” Just as single minded as John as well.

“Well there’ve been more demon sightings, so more hunters have been stopping by, looking for information,” Ellen told him. She watched as Sam’s eyebrows jumped, the same way John’s would when he was taken off guard. “Look I know you have your hands full with the guy but we could really use you.”

She watched as Sam tilted his head in thought. “I’ll think about it, Ellen,” Sam finally said.

Ellen just nodded and dropped her cigarette. She stomped it out and went to head back inside. “Shall we?”

Sam nodded and did the same before following her back in. They needed to address the obvious elephant in the room.


	8. there's something about Dean

“So tell me exactly what happened, Winchester. From the beginning,” Ellen said. She was on her second beer bottle at this point as she glanced briefly over to Dean before turning back to Sam, who sat there staring down at his own bottle.

“I was on a hunt. I heard about a couple werewolves terrorizing the locals in this town in Oregon,” Sam’s face darkened and Ellen realized Sam had been going on a werewolf hunting spree since John died, some weird revenge crusade. “Anyways I found them, killed them and that was that. Then I ended up in a random bar. I always go to a bar after a hunt so don’t give me that look. I just wanted to take my mind off and hustle some pool or something for a little while. Found some hunters already sitting at a card game and they let me join in. That was when I met Nick and he offered up Dean to make the game more ‘interesting’,” he spat the word out with such fury, Ellen raised an eyebrow in surprise.

She waited silently for him to gather himself. He took a deep breath and continued, “You should’ve been there, Ellen. If you’d seen what Nick had Dean doing, you’d want to shoot him yourself.” She had no doubt just looking at the poor guy. “He’s a fucking piece of shit excuse for a human being. I won the game eventually, but Dean had to...Nick had him sucking his dick under the table while we played,” Sam clenched his hands and Ellen noticed for the first time his right hand was wrapped in bandages. He looked down when he noticed her staring. “Oh yeah. I punched the bastard. Figured if I couldn’t kill him, I’d at least beat him up bad.”

Ellen could imagine Sam Winchester beating the guy to a bloody pulp. “So then what?” she asked, wanting to keep him on track. “You decided to come here?”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, pretty much. I bought him the hoodie and stuff. He was in this shitty shirt with more holes in it than I’d ever seen. We grabbed something to eat and drove here. Had to sleep in a couple motels on the way. I’m not sure Dean’s mental state but I figured he could use some sleep. Took us a few days to drive here, it would’ve been faster but yeah,” he glanced back at Dean, worry in his eyes.

Ellen realized Winchester really cared about this fellow, whom he only just met it seemed. You had to have something real special to worm your way into a Winchester’s heart. There must have been something about Dean then. It had Ellen looking back at him. Under the hoodie and scars and bruises were golden hair, green eyes that might’ve sparkled bright with life before all this, and freckles, on a pale complexion. He was pretty for a guy.

She studied him for another moment. “Has he been like this the whole way?” she asked Sam.

Sam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I’ve tried everything I can think of. Nothing seems to get through to him. Except direct commands. But he’s like a puppet or something. He goes with whatever you say but it’s like he isn’t actually there. I really need your help, Ellen,” he pleaded and boy, did that take Ellen by surprise. She was pretty sure she never ever heard a Winchester plea before. Not to her, not to anyone. “I don’t know what to do and I want to save him, Ellen. It’s all I can think about these past few days, since I saw him with Nick.”

Ellen sighed, wondering how she always had to fix a Winchester’s problem. She stood up and went over to Dean. The least she could do was at least see what was wrong with him. She wasn’t sure if she could fix him, she wasn’t a miracle worker, but she’d known Sam since he was a boy and if this meant so much to him, she figured she could at least try. She reached out to touch Dean, hesitating as her hand hovered just over his shoulder. He didn’t seem to notice her. Or if he did, he didn’t react in the slightest.

She decided to go for it and grabbed him by the shoulder. No reaction. She shook him a little, just to try and grab his attention. Still nothing. “Dean,” she said quietly, hoping he’d at least look at her. Still no reaction. She wasn’t sure what she had been hoping for really. Sam said he tried everything. The only thing that worked were direct commands. Sam probably didn’t want to hear it but this went deeper than even Ellen knew how to deal with. He was going to have to get Dean to a professional.

Ellen sighed and looked over to Sam. There was hope and desperation in his eyes. She didn’t want to be the one to take that hope away from him but someone had to set him straight. “Listen, Sam, I think you had good intentions bringing him here,” Ellen said, and she saw Sam brace himself for the ‘but’, “but I really think you need to get him to a professional, someone who deals in these kinds of things.”

“What?” Sam asked.

“Like a doctor, someone who specializes in trauma,” Ellen said.

“Dean doesn’t need a doctor, Ellen,” Sam said quickly. “He needs help, I get that. But no doctor will understand what hunters go through.”

Ellen raised an eyebrow. “Was he actually a hunter?” she asked softly. She was unconsciously petting Dean’s hair. It came natural to her as a mother.

“Yeah. I mean he might not be one now but he was before. Nick said that’s how they met,” Sam said. He sighed, looking tired, slumping back in his seat. “Look, Ellen, I get that Dean may need a lot of help but we can’t go to a doctor. I’ll find a way to fix him myself if I have to. I just figured you were a good friend of my dad’s and you’d be able to help us…”

Ellen sighed, letting go of Dean and going back to her chair. “I can still help you, Sam. Like you said, you came to me for a reason. But this guy isn't even all there. I'm pretty sure he's catatonic. He’s going to need more than just you to help him.” She leaned over to place a hand over his. “He really needs to see a professional, Sam.” Ellen glanced at the clock, realizing it had gotten later than she thought. “Why don’t you think it over tonight? I'll let you two stay the night free of charge. Make up your mind by tomorrow morning. I know a guy who’s in the know-how with the hunting community. He’s a good man and he’s seen all kinds of things.”

Sam shook his head. “Thanks, Ellen. I think we’ll take you up on your offer to spend the night but we’re going to hit the road right after.”

Ellen frowned. “Are you sure? I’m here if you need me, Sam.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam replied. He stood up and walked over to sling an arm over Dean’s shoulder. “We’re going to spend the night here, Dean. Follow me,” he ordered and Dean was trailing after Sam. Sam looked back at Ellen. “You know, I see why my dad really liked you. You’re a good friend, Ellen. Thank you.” Then before Ellen could say anything, he slipped into the back of the Roadhouse where one of the guest rooms were at.

By morning, Sam and Dean were heading out. Before he left, Sam asked, “Do you believe in soulmates, Ellen?” 

Ellen was taken aback by the question. “I may have once upon a time. Why?” She did when Bill was alive.

“I had been thinking a lot these past few days about what could’ve drawn me to Dean. I have to save him, Ellen, I just have to. There’s just something about Dean, something special,” Sam confessed. Ellen realized just how small and innocent Sam Winchester could look bundled up in that familiar jacket, even standing at 6’4. “I stayed awake last night, thinking about your offer. Again I’m going to have to decline. I don’t think any doctor can fix Dean. I can’t explain why but it finally dawned on me...I think it has to be me.”

Ellen stayed quiet for a moment. “Why did you come here, Sam?”

Sam frowned before looking over to Dean who was standing nearby, just outside. “I think I came here looking for a quick fix, that you had one. Now I realize there is no quick fix. You can't help him. But _I_ can, Ellen. I can save Dean. I _will_ save Dean.” He looked suddenly determined.

Ellen stared at him. It felt like staring into John Winchester at that moment. “And what if you can’t?” she asked softly.

“I will,” Sam repeated firmly.

“You can’t save everyone,” Ellen told him.

“Maybe. But Dean isn't everyone. Just wait. We’ll come back when he’s better, Ellen. You’ll see. That’s a promise,” Sam said and he left, dragging Dean behind him.

Ellen wondered how many promises Sam Winchester actually kept.


	9. let's call Rufus

It wasn’t that Sam believed in love. He did love a girl once, when he stupidly believed he could get away from hunting, get away from his dad, go off to college. There he fell in love with Jess, a girl who was smart and pretty and liked Sam for who he was and wanted to make something of herself. She was the complete opposite of Sam. But then John found him not even a year in and Sam had to grudgingly leave his college life behind because his dad found a lead on the demon that killed his mom and well, Sam couldn’t just ignore it.

The demon had been easy to deal with because John had found the famous colt. The gun that could kill anything, as they said. A lot happened on their way to kill the demon and the short story of it was that Sam decided he couldn’t go back to pretending to be normal. This was who he was. He was a hunter, brought into it by John and maybe in another lifetime he could’ve made it work with college, with Jess, just not in this one. And Sam hadn’t had anyone steady since, didn’t want to find anyone since. 

The hunting gig was dangerous and Sam wasn’t sure he’d live to be even in his 30’s. That was a far off dream and he told himself there was no way he’d bring anyone into this life. So Sam had been flying solo for a long time, gambling and hustling at bars, having one night stands, with condoms of course. He didn’t need to be called about any little Sammy’s running around. But finding a soulmate...that was different.

When he saw Dean, he knew he had to save him at all cost. It started as something small, a feeling in his guts, it told him he’d be making the biggest mistake of his life if he turned his back and just left Dean to deal with the evil son of a bitch. Not that Sam’s moral compass would’ve let him get away that easily.

After the talk with Ellen, now he realized. There was something special about Dean, something that connected them together that went beyond rescuer and rescuee, that went beyond kinship between two strangers or even friends. He wasn’t in Dean’s head but Dean must’ve felt something. He wanted to think that there was still a small part of Dean somewhere in there, hanging on by a thread. Sometimes when Sam would steal a glance at him, he’d see Dean twitch a finger.

It wasn’t much but it was something. It was a start. Sam drove and drove. He wasn’t sure where he was going now. It wasn’t like he owned a house or anything. He lived on the road, resting in motels when he was tired or on a long hunt. And these days the only things he was all that interested in hunting were werewolves, and the occasional demon. He couldn’t very well bring Dean on a case though, not with the state he was in.

He found a sign with a motel coming up. Sam was beat from being on the road for several hours now. He turned off toward the motel and got them a room with one bed (“all we got, take it or leave, man.”).

Dean was sitting on the bed where Sam left him. He was staring blankly at the wall. It was like nobody was home but his fingers twitched every so often so there had to be somebody home. Sam just needed to figure a way to connect with him. He went to grab John’s journal out of his duffel bag. It was one of the few things John had that Sam decided to keep. His journal which was a collection of information John gathered about the things he saw and hunted and heard about. His leather jacket that Sam liked to wear because it beat buying things he didn’t need to buy and well, it was his. And of course the impala.

Sam found the journal and walked over to sit next to Dean. He remembered seeing something in the journal that pertained to dream-walking. Sam figured he might be able to reach Dean through his dreams. He just needed the spell and ingredients and to get Dean to sleep. It shouldn’t be too hard.

He found the page near the back. John Winchester had come across something that allowed anyone to walk into someone’s dreams. It had only been once and it looked like dad had barely survived the encounter. But there underlined numerous times in all uppercase letters were: **AFRICAN DREAM ROOT**. Sam stared down at the page. He needed to make a few calls.

Rufus was an old friend of Dad’s. His number was in John’s phone as one of the top contacts. Rufus knew about dad’s death so he knew instantly who was on the other end after picking up on the third ring.

“What the hell do you want, Sammy?” His voice was gruff and lacked sleep.

Sam sighed. “Sorry to wake you, Rufus. But I’ve got a big favor to ask you. Like huge. I’ll owe you for the rest of my life if I have to. Just please let me come over.”

There was a pause and Sam held his breath. Then, “Fine. But bring the damn scotch.” Rufus hung up and Sam instantly relaxed. He turned over to Dean and grinned, feeling more hopeful than the last few days.

Rufus Turner was a no nonsense type of hunter which was probably why John got along so well with him. He lived alone in Vermont, which was another long drive but Sam barely stopped. He only stopped to grab gas, bring back food, and to take naps on the side of back roads. Dean hadn’t changed much and Sam had gotten used to the quiet. He would twitch a finger every now and then, blink sometimes, but that was it. Sam had to feed him food and help him drink water and they made a few pit stops on the way.

Pretty soon Sam and Dean were on the doorstep of an house. Sam had the scotch that Rufus loved so much in his hands. He rang the buzzer and Rufus opened the door just enough to stare at Sam. Then he saw Dean.

“Who the hell is he, boy?” Rufus demanded.

“My big favor,” Sam said. “Here, I got you the scotch,” he held it out for Rufus to take.

Rufus sighed and opened the door all the way, taking the scotch without complaint. “Fine. Come in, the both of you.”

“Thank you,” Sam said and pulled Dean along.

“So what’s this big favor and what’s it got to do with him?” Rufus asked getting straight to business.

“Ever heard of an African Dream Root?”

“Yeah. Those are pretty dangerous. Why do you want to go messing with dreams, Winchester?” Rufus asked, going to the kitchen and pulling out three glasses.

Sam peeked over. “He doesn’t drink,” he told him. Rufus raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as he put one of the glasses back. “I won him in a poker game almost a week ago. He’s been abused by this hunter named Nick. Ellen thinks he might be catatonic but he still reacts to things and he moves his hand sometimes. But it’s not enough. I need a way to reach him, to bring him back. So I figured I could maybe talk to him in his dream.” He looked at Rufus, his eyes pleading. “Will you help me, Rufus?”


	10. down the rabbit hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This goes with the last chapter and it's short.
> 
> Heads up, another POV change.

Rufus honestly should’ve said no to Winchester’s boy over the phone. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to help the kid, maybe he was just getting soft, sentimental in his old age. He sighed as he went to grab some of the dream roots he had stashed in the back of the house. He may be a semi retired hunter, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his own collection of useful, interesting things. He got these from a woman who called herself Bela. They ran into each other a couple years back and Rufus ended up helping her out of a spot of trouble. In gratitude, she gave him some dream roots free of charge, told him to be careful because you could use this to get inside someone’s dreams.

Rufus didn’t really care for such things. He only took it because he had a feeling it’d come in handy one day. This was the day, he supposed. He sighed and came back with a small bundle. He found Sam waiting for him at the table. There was an empty glass in front of him. Sam watched him as Rufus walked over and placed a small root inside the glass.

“Now we need something from Dean, like a lock of his hair,” Rufus told him.

Sam grimaced but leaned over to pull a strand of Dean’s hair. It was a quick tug and if it hurt, there was no indication on Dean’s face to tell. “Sorry,” he apologized. He dropped it into the glass and let Rufus mash them up and add the rest of the ingredients. He poured some of the scotch in too just so it didn’t taste too bad.

He handed back to Sam and asked, “You ready to do this, kid? You can back out now, find a different way to reach him.”

Sam shook his head and gripped the cup with both hands. The glass shook and Rufus knew he was scared but Sam also looked determined. “I have to bring him back, Rufus.”

“If what you say is true about him, Dean’s head is going to be pretty messed up,” Rufus warned him. “With the dream root, you’ll be able to control some aspects of his dream but they might be mostly memories. Some fucked up memories.”

“I know, Rufus. Thanks for being concerned, but I don’t have a choice. I have to save him,” Sam told him firmly.

Rufus sighed and grabbed his own glass of scotch. He held it up to clink with Sam. “Bottom’s up then.”

They looked at each other and downed their glasses. Rufus felt the familiar burn of the alcohol as he watched from across the table to see Sam wince. The dream root didn’t taste that great but the scotch should help mask its bitterness. 

“How long will it take for it to work?” Sam asked.

“Should be almost instantly. As soon as the sleeping pills kick in for Dean and he’s asleep, from what I hear, you’ll be instantly transported to his dream,” Rufus said.

He honestly didn’t know much about dream roots, just what Bela told him. Rufus didn’t dabble in this kind of stuff if he didn’t have to. It was just bad mojo as far as he was concerned. But this seemed important to Sam and he tried to recall any more information on the root. 

As Rufus predicted, it didn’t take too long for Dean to fully slip into unconsciousness. Rufus had mixed in some sleeping pills into the water he gave to Dean earlier so that Sam could enter Dean’s mind via the root. He watched as Sam started to blink, on the edge of unconsciousness himself.

Rufus went to refill his glass with more scotch and said, “I really hope you know what you’re doing, Winchester. Good luck.” _You’re going to need it._

Sam didn’t say anything. He slumped forward, presumably inside Dean’s dream now. Oh yeah kid was going to need all the luck he could get. He downed his second glass of scotch and welcomed the burn. Rufus wasn’t sure how he could be retired from the hunting life and still get dragged into crap like this.

It must be the curse of knowing a Winchester. At least he knew exactly what Rufus liked. He would give the kid that.


	11. to dream a little dream of Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have finished this story. I will be posting the chapters over the week.
> 
>  **warnings:** Dean's head is messed up, nick is a giant asshole, nudity, Dean gets tied up and gagged, cock-warming in the end.

Sam woke up in a house, not Rufus’ though and Dean wasn’t anywhere to be seen. It was old and sparsely furnished. The walls were made of wood and Sam was reminded of one of those cabins he and dad crashed for the night while in the middle of hunting a wendigo feeding on lost campers. They didn’t even question finding an empty cabin in the middle of the thick forest.

There was a fireplace across the room, lit and flickering, the only source of light here. Sam stepped forward on wobbling legs. He almost fell forward in surprise, catching himself just in time with a chair. He wondered where Dean was. This was his dream, his mind so he could be anywhere. And where exactly was Sam?

Once he was able to steady himself, Sam took a deep breath and started to walk around the room. There was a window next to a shut door. Sam went over to open the door, wondering where it would take him. He flung the door open and was met with a large gust of wind and rain. He shut his eyes as rain came in and immediately closed the door. It didn’t sound like it was raining from in here but it was just a dream and dreams could be weird. Sam opened his eyes again and decided to go in the other direction through the room.

It looked like he was heading to the kitchen but suddenly darkness was swirling around him as the dream shifted. He couldn’t feel the floor under his feet and it felt like he was falling. Sam blinked and was suddenly in a different room, a bedroom it looked like. There was a king sized bed in the middle and someone strapped down.

Sam almost gasped when he realized it was Dean and he was naked. His hair was matted down with sweat and his eyes were bright green with life. He had something in his mouth, a large black ball. It immediately dawned on Sam what it was and Sam nearly launched himself to the bed in anger. It was a fucking ball gag.

Both of Dean’s arms were tied down to the bed with rope, same with his ankles. He was spread eagled and helpless and looked scared. He wasn’t bruised or scarred though and Sam had to take a deep breath when he got to the side of the bed because Dean, unmarred, looked so beautiful. He was like an angel really.

Dean looked up at Sam, pleading himself silently for him to help. Sam was about to undo the rope when he heard heavy footsteps coming into the room. Nick stepped in, tall and lean, smiling as he saw Dean. He looked the same as when Sam saw him at the bar. He wore a simple white button up shirt with tight jeans. 

“You must be so glad to see me, slave,” Nick said, walking over to the bed in long purposeful strides.

Sam glared at him, wanting to punch him in the face again. He didn’t care if this Nick wasn’t real. He would gladly take his anger out on a dream version of the asshole. He looked over to Dean and saw that Dean was moaning and struggling desperately to get away.

“Hey, hey, Dean,” Sam said gently. Dean glanced back over to Sam and motioned for him to untie him. “Listen, Dean, none of this is real. This Nick guy isn’t real. He can’t actually hurt you. You’re dreaming.”

“Don’t listen to him, Dean. You know me, kiddo. You know what I can do to you, what I already did to you,” Nick said, approaching Dean on the other side. Dean’s eyes darted from Sam to Nick and then back again. It looked like he was torn between who to believe.

Sam glared at dream Nick. “You’re not real, you motherfucker. You’re just a part of Dean’s mind. I punched the real you,” Sam growled.

Dean’s eyes widened even more at his admission. Sam went to untie his hand as he continued, “Seriously, Dean. This asshole can’t hurt you here. You need to wake up or take control of the dream. This is in _your_ head.” He managed to untie Dean’s hand and moved to his ankle. “I rescued you from the real asshole. I just need you to come back.”

Before he could finish untying Dean’s ankle, the scene shifted again. Sam swore and darkness swirled around him again. The room he was in now was darker, and he could make out two figures across the room from the glow of the fire. Nick was lounging lazily in a large armchair in nothing but a bathrobe. 

In between his spread legs was Dean who was also naked. He had the familiar collar around his neck. His arms were tied behind him and he had Nick’s half hard dick in his mouth. His eyes were glazed over and Nick slumped back with a happy sigh. He reached down to pet the top of Dean’s head.

“That’s a good boy, Dean-o. Keep Daddy warm and happy,” Nick said.

Sam angrily walked over. He pulled Dean away from his abuser and shook him, trying to grab his attention. “Listen to me, Dean, this is not real. You don’t have to do this,” Sam told him. He was met with silence as Dean stared up at him, unseeing.

Then he heard Nick laugh behind him. It sent a chill up his spine. “Oh come on, Sammy, don’t be such a spoilsport. Dean-o loves this. He loves making his daddy happy. Right, kid?” Dean turned at the sound of Nick’s voice and Sam was starting to feel that small shred of hope slipping away between his fingers.

Before he could move, the scene shifted once again, and Dean was gone from his grasp. All Sam heard in the darkness was Nick, chuckling and taunting him, “You can’t save him, Sammy. You just can’t.”


	12. there are dragons here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **warnings:** whipping, master/slave relationship

Dean had a lot of messed up stuff in his head, fractured memories, and the ever present darkness that swirled around him. It was like following a hurricane, he knew it was eventually going to be the end of him but Sam couldn’t help it. Dean was beautiful and damaged and Sam didn’t care if Dean led him to hell at this point.

They were irrevocably intertwined at this point. There wasn’t a Sam without a Dean. Their fates had been interwoven and Sam was just in too deep, caught in a siren’s call. Sam was going to fix him and they were going to go back to the real world and Dean was going to stay with Sam until he fully recovered, until he got tired of Sam’s company.

Sam thought about the possibility of Dean not wanting Sam’s help. It was in the back of his mind, always there and taunting him, telling him maybe Sam was trying to save someone who didn’t even want to be saved, who was happy to drown in the darkness. Ellen also warned Sam that he couldn’t save everyone. He shook his head to get rid of the thought. He couldn’t afford to think that way when he was so close. He just needed a little more time and he was sure he could reach Dean. He wouldn’t let the darkness have him.

He followed Dean to a large house and up the steps. It was old, Victorian style with an upper floor. Inside was beautifully designed with a chandelier overhanging the front of a large spiraling staircase. Sam wondered if this was Nick’s. It seemed like it would fit with the bastard’s style somehow.

Dean took off his clothes and knelt in front of the stairs with his head bowed, waiting. It didn’t take long before Nick came walking down the stairs slowly. He was wearing a suit and tie and sunglasses. He grinned as he saw Dean waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase.

Sam stepped forward, wanting to put himself in between them.

“Hello, slave,” Nick said as he reached the bottom step, looming over Dean.

“Hello, master,” Dean mumbled.

“He’s not your master anymore, Dean!” Sam shouted before he could stop himself. He stomped over to them with the intentions of trying to wake up Dean again. “This is all in your head.”

“Is it really?” Nick asked, leaning against the banister. “Are you really sure this isn’t real? Come on, Dean, who are you going to listen to? You’ve never met this guy in your life, but you know me. You and I are together, after all. You wanted this.”

Sam watched as Dean looked, once again, conflicted. The scene changed again and Sam found himself in a dimly lit room that looked straight out of a medieval dungeon. He took a step in the darkness and could faintly hear crying. Sam braced himself for whatever nightmare he just entered. Dean’s dreams were getting darker the deeper he fell down the rabbit’s hole that was Dean’s fractured and confused mind.

He followed the sobs until he saw Dean bent over a wooden bench, his hands were tied together and attached to a small hook in the floor. He was naked again and was crying as Nick loomed over him with an evil looking whip that had spikes at the end of it. Sam held his breath as Nick swung the whip down and Dean screamed. It was a terrible, almost animalistic sound and Sam couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

He wondered if this was actually Dean’s dream or a memory. He took a step forward as Nick leaned over Dean and hissed, “I told you to listen to me, didn’t I? If you’d just did as you were supposed to the first time like a good little boy, I wouldn’t have to punish you. Now count for me, slave, and thank your master.”

Dean took a deep, shaky breath. The screaming made his voice hoarse as he whispered, “One. Thank you, master.”

Nick smiled and gently pet Dean’s hair before swinging the whip again. Dean’s scream pierced the air again. Sam was standing in the shadows, frozen. He couldn’t seem to make his body move. He knew he had to get to Dean, to shake him out of his torment. But for some reason his body didn’t want to listen to him as he listened, helplessly, to Dean’s screams of pain.

He had a suspicion Nick was a sadist. It was just the way he moved and grinned while he watched Dean follow his orders mindlessly but watching this, witnessing this kind of cruelty, yeah Sam had no doubt now. After Nick whipped Dean for the seventh time, Sam found himself surging forward unexpectedly.

Sam tackled Nick to the ground before he could whip him again. He didn’t realize what he was doing until he felt his fist connect with Nick’s face and even then, Sam didn’t want to stop himself. He was going to beat him until he was a bloody pulp this time. He didn’t stop until a warm hand clamped onto his wrist and with a surprising amount of strength, he was pulled off a beaten and unconscious Nick.

Sam blinked and looked up to see Dean. He was wearing clothes again and his neck was bare of the collar. His blond hair wasn’t clinging to his face in sweat and blood. His eyes were a brilliant green and there was life in it again and Sam had to take a deep breath to steady himself because he was absolutely breath-taking.

“Are you…” Sam trailed off, scared to finish the thought in case this was a trick.

Dean smiled. It was a small quirk of his lips and it seemed to just brighten his face. He inclined his head, “I think so. I uh...thank you. Sam, right?” Sam nodded, feeling his heart thumping loudly in his chest. “I think I’m back. Mostly. Uh, yeah, so thank you. I know I didn’t exactly make it easy.”

Sam had to laugh at that. “Nothing about you is easy,” he agreed. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dean just stared at him for a moment before saying, “Right. Whatever. Guess it’s time for us to get back to the real world, huh?”

“Yeah guess it’s time,” Sam said.


	13. come in Sam Winchester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up. Going to be putting out maybe 3 chapters today.
> 
>  **warning:** Flashbacks, Dean's POV

Dean woke up first. He groaned at the pounding in his head. It felt like he’d gotten smacked in the head with a sledgehammer. He looked around to see that he was in a house. He didn’t recognize it. The last thing he really remembered was kneeling by Nick at the bar. The details were still somewhat blurry. He didn’t remember everything but there were loud sounds like laughter and bright lights.

Someone groaned next to him and Dean found himself looking over. A guy with a mop of brown hair and hazel eyes lifted his head to stare at Dean. Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. He remembered that guy from his dreams. The guy kept chasing him down the rabbit hole, kept trying to wake Dean up. In the end, he succeeded. Sam. Somehow he knew the guy’s name was Sam.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. This was the guy who saved his ass and Dean wasn’t sure how to act around him. “So uh do you know where we are?”

Sam opened his mouth to answer but was cut off when some guy walked into the room. He had dark skin and looked rough around the edges, he kind of reminded Dean a little of Bobby. In between his fingers was a cigarette. “You’re in my place,” the guy said. “Name’s Rufus.”

“Dean,” Dean said. His hands felt clammy and he rubbed them on his jeans nervously. “I don’t exactly know what happened, but I think I owe you guys a ‘thanks’.”

He watched as Sam and Rufus exchanged looks. “I think I owe you an explanation,” Sam finally said. “You’re going to want to stay seated for it though. It’s a long story.”

Dean nodded. “Right. Of course.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. As long as Sam explained to him where Nick was and why he wasn’t still with him…

Rufus looked at Dean, offering a cigarette. “But before all that, you want a smoke?”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t smoke.”

“I’ll take one then if you don’t mind,” Sam said. Rufus handed it over to him. “Thanks.”

“Got any liquor instead?” Dean asked, not sure if this was overstepping any boundaries.

Rufus just grinned at him and went to grab a glass. “You like scotch, Dean? I’ve got a real good one, courtesy of Sam Winchester.”

“Uh sure,” Dean replied. Rufus came back with a glass and poured him some scotch. “Thank you.”

“Shall we take this outside?” Rufus asked them. Sam nodded as Dean stood up to follow them.

“So uh I don’t really know where to start,” Sam said once they got outside.

“You don’t have to tell me the whole story out here,” Dean said, as he took a sip on his scotch. “You can tell me who you are, I guess.”

Sam exhaled a puff of smoke. “Well my name’s Sam Winchester. I’m a hunter.”

“Really?” Dean wasn’t sure why he was surprised. Sam had the look and whatever happened in Dean’s dream, well, normal people didn’t end up walking into someone else’s dream by accident. Sam knew stuff, got caught up in the life probably the same way Dean had.

“Yeah,” Sam said with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t I look it?”

Dean looked Sam over. On his long hair and kind, youthful face. His leather jacket over a dark tee-shirt and dark jeans and work boots. Ok, maybe he did a little.

“Trust me, kid. Sam’s a damn good hunter,” Rufus said. “I’m semi-retired myself.” He’d almost forgotten the older man was with them. 

“Right,” Dean nodded, feeling his cheeks heat up. He cleared his throat. “I’m a hunter too.”

“Really?” It was Sam’s turn to look surprised.

Dean just chugged the rest of his scotch, feeling the burn of the liquor travelling down his throat. “Yeah,” he said quietly as he remembered how he got into hunting.

_“Who are you?” Dean asked as he was helped up by a man with blond hair and ice blue eyes and a charming smile._

_“My name’s Nick. And I think I just rescued you, buddy,” Nick told him. “So I think I’m owed at least a name.”_

_“Dean. Dean Singer,” Dean said. “And uh thanks. What the hell was that thing? Because there’s no way that was Bobby’s wife.”_

_“That, my dear friend, was a demon,” Nick replied. “Poor woman was probably possessed for a while.”_

_“W-what?” Dean sputtered._

“Hey, Dean, you ok? We’re going to head back inside. It’s cold out here. That’s ok with you, right?” Sam’s voice jerked Dean back to the present.

“Oh. Oh yeah. Sorry,” Dean mumbled. He shivered as a cold breeze passed through him. “Good idea.”

“Well come on then, boys,” Rufus grunted. He tossed his cigarette carelessly on the ground and went back inside. Sam and Dean followed behind him.

“So I guess you want to hear the story now,” Sam said once they were all sitting in Rufus’ living room, cozied up by the fireplace.

Dean was on a couch with a blanket covering him while Sam sat somewhat stiffly on the other end and Rufus took the armchair halfway across the room. Dean had another glass of scotch. It felt weird having a drink in his hands again after at least 4 years without. Nick didn’t like when Dean got wasted so it had been quickly added to an ever growing list when they got into a relationship. Dean almost forgot how much he liked to drink.

He watched as Sam stared down at his hands. “So basically I was in town hunting a couple werewolves,” Sam started. “Killed them and went to a bar to celebrate.” Dean nodded, nursing on the scotch. That didn’t seem out of the norm for a hunter to do. When he hunted monsters with Nick he remembered them going to bars as well. Nick to play cards and Dean to hustle pool. It was just something to relieve the stress and tension and high that came from a successful hunt.

“I saw a game already going on and decided to join in. I was winning and that was when I met Nick,” Sam continued and Dean remembered pieces of that day.

_Dean was kneeling under the table, taking in his Master’s cock like the good whore he was. His eyes were glazed over as his Master gripped his hair tightly and pushed his cock down Dean’s throat. Dean felt like he was choking but he remembered that Master didn’t like it when he made any noises so he tried to keep quiet as best as he could._

_“That’s real good, Dean. You’re making your master very happy,” his master groaned._

“Dean? Dean?” Sam snapped his fingers in front of Dean’s face and Dean blinked, nearly jumping back in surprise at how close Sam had gotten to him. His face went from worried to apologetic. “Sorry,” Sam said as he leaned back. “You just kind of zoned out.” A pause. “Where did you go?”

“I’m sorry,” Dean apologized. He rubbed the side of his face, suddenly feeling exhausted. He didn’t really want to tell Sam the truth. Not yet at least. “Could we continue this in the morning?” He looked between Sam and Rufus, his eyes pleading. He was getting unneeded flashbacks and he wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to withstand them just yet.

Sam looked like he wanted to argue but Rufus just looked at him and nodded. “Yeah, let’s take a break,” Rufus said, standing up. “I’m beat anyways. Go ahead and take the room upstairs, boys. It’s got two beds in there.”

“Thanks,” Dean said and darted upstairs before Sam could say anything.


	14. this is Dean Singer

Dean woke up the next morning with bags under his eyes. He didn’t get much sleep, plagued with nightmares and old memories. It wasn’t really anything new though, he was just glad he wasn’t stuck in them indefinitely now. He had Sam to thank for that. The guy really saved Dean’s ass and he didn’t even know Dean. Not really. He must have looked real pitiful sitting at his master’s-Nick’s feet to make Sam take pity on him and save him from the asshole.

Dean was sure once Sam got to know more about Dean’s past though Sam was going to change his mind and throw his ass to the curve. People always ended up leaving Dean in the end. It was just a fact of life. He sighed and swung a leg over the side of the bed. It was time to face the music.

When Dean headed downstairs he could hear voices coming from the kitchen. He grimaced. Figures that he would get stuck with morning people. He peeked his head around the corner and saw Sam sipping on a cup of coffee, looking just as tired as Dean felt. Next to him was Rufus, already dressed and smiling over a glass of scotch.

Dean walked in, raising an eyebrow at Rufus. “You’re having alcohol in the morning?” he asked perplexed.

Rufus just shrugged and grabbed an empty glass for him. “We’re all going to die one day, son. Some sooner than others. So why not just enjoy what we have ‘til then?”

Dean liked his philosophy and took the glass. He let Rufus pour him the nearly empty bottle of scotch. It was pretty good scotch. “I guess,” he said. “To live another day then.” Jokingly, Dean held his glass up.

Rufus laughed. “To live another day.” They clinked glasses together.

Dean took a sip of the scotch before looking over to Sam. He was unusually quiet. Not that Dean knew what the guy was usually like but Sam just didn’t seem like the kind of guy who liked to sit and brood. He was pretty chatty last night anyways.

“What’s up with you? Fall off the wrong side of the bed this morning?” Dean joked. Sam didn’t look too hot. His hair was a mess and his eyes drooped, like he was fighting back sleep. He looked at Dean tiredly.

“Sorry,” Sam yawned. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Me neither,” Dean said. He didn’t bother to elaborate. The kitchen fell into a heavy silence. He already knew he woke the two up last night screaming. He remembered tossing and turning, remembered waking up in the middle of the night with Sam hovering over him with worried eyes, unsure if he should touch Dean or not.

“Look, why don’t we just talk about it?” Dean wasn’t usually one to talk things out, especially when it was related to him, but the growing silence and tension had him feeling anxious and annoyed which was not a good combo. He looked down at his glass of scotch, feeling two pairs of eyes burning into him.

“What do you want to talk about?” Sam asked finally.

“Everything,” Dean said with a sigh. He put the glass down, part of him wanting to get absolutely drunk so he didn’t have to deal with his emotions but he knew that was a bad idea. He had to come to terms with the situation sooner or later. He needed to know what was going on and they probably had questions for him and then he could finally decide what to do.

They sat down at the table in the room next to the kitchen. It was the table he first woke up at. “So start from the beginning, where you, uh, won me,” Dean grimaced at the words. It made him sound like a piece of meat, a piece of property, something that wasn’t human. He hated Nick for putting him in the situation in the first place. They were supposed to have each other’s backs.

_“So this is what you do then? Hunt these, uh, things?” Dean asked as Nick loaded his shotgun full of salt. Dean still didn’t understand why salt seemed to affect most supernatural creatures but he saw it first hand last week when they were chasing a ghost. He couldn’t deny that the ghost fizzled out with a shriek when it was blasted with salt. They were hunting another ghost here in Louisiana and Nick promised Dean would get to do something this time._

_“Yup,” Nick replied with a grin. He handed the shotgun to Dean. “Here. You get to shoot it while I dig the grave.”_

_“Wait. What? You want me to shoot a ghost?” Dean blurted out as Nick started to get in the truck. Dean followed him quickly._

Dean sighed, swirling his coffee around with a spoon. They decided to eat breakfast and Dean had enough of alcohol for the morning so he switched to coffee with the eggs and bacon he was offered by Rufus. Rufus was on his third glass. Dean wouldn’t be surprised if the guy’s liver gave out soon at the rate he was going.

“So I was in Oregon,” Sam started and Dean nodded, vaguely remembering that was where he and Nick had been. Sam told Dean and Rufus about how he finished killing werewolves, went to a bar with the hopes to hustle some poor sap and instead found himself joining a poker game with retired hunters and that was where he met Nick and Dean. He had been getting ready to leave with his winnings, something Dean would’ve done if he had been in Sam’s spot.

There were too many people that liked to take advantage of a poor kid thinking he’d make the perfect target because he would be vulnerable and inexperienced, especially looking like Sam, all dopey puppy eyes and long hair. Guys like Nick preyed on people like Sam, like Dean. Dean should know. He lived with the guy.

Dean found himself having to resist the urge to punch the table as Sam recounted the story in vivid detail. He hated hearing about himself from a stranger, but he told Sam to leave nothing out, that he wanted to hear everything so he had no one to blame but himself for this. Still, at least after hearing all that crap, it was easier for him to decide what he wanted to do. He definitely didn’t want to go back, even if some small part of him was screaming at him to go back to Nick and make it up to his master - who was definitely not his master, not anymore at least.


	15. inside is a little boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided I'm going to put the rest of the story up today. Tonight I'll post the last 3 chapters (which are the last 2 chapters and epilogue).

Sam found himself talking more than he meant to. If he had been drinking, he could’ve blamed it on the alcohol, but as it stood, Sam wasn’t as much of a drinker unlike Rufus or apparently Dean. He could only blame himself because once he got started, it was like the floodgates opened and Sam couldn’t stop. He basically told Dean his whole life story, including the part where his mom burned on the ceiling thanks to this evil demon named Azazel that liked to terrorize people for fun. Or at least the Winchesters.

They tried to get information out of the demon before he was shot with the colt but it had been a futile effort. Azazel just laughed in their faces before John Winchester got fed up and shot him in the head, putting an end to over a decade long crusade. It had been very anticlimactic to Sam to be honest. He felt like the demon went down too easy, like he put his life on hold for years chasing the damned thing and when they finally caught up to it, it went down in one shot, in one night.

Sam should be thankful and he was, but he was also annoyed. He also told Dean about growing up knowing that there were things in the dark that ate people, always scared and cautious and putting people at a distance because they never stayed in one place for too long. He talked about having fights with his dad about hunting before giving into it when he turned 14 and they moved to yet another town before Sam could get registered for high school. It was easy to open up to Dean who sat there quietly, taking in everything he said as he drank his coffee.

Sam never realized how lonely he had been until he saw Dean. It dawned on him, as he recounted John’s death, that Sam had never truly been alone until last year. He always had Dad with him until he left for college and that year in college, he had Jess. Then it was Dad again. Sam had lost himself in hunts last year killing all sorts of monsters, taking hunt after hunt, until he decided to concentrate more on werewolf cases, thinking it’d somehow avenge his dad and fill the empty spot inside him that seemed to be growing with every passing day.

He was afraid he was going to be eventually consumed with whatever darkness he felt inside. But Dean changed that. He wasn’t sure how or why, couldn’t explain it, but there was something about Dean that pulled him in. They were connected somehow, on some level. Maybe soul to soul. Sam wasn’t sure. There was just this connection. And he wondered as he watched Dean fiddle with his mug if Dean felt it too.

He must have.

Sam refused to think that he was the only one, that the connection was one-sided. 

“So I guess it’s my turn,” Dean said after Sam finished. He sighed, running his hand through his hair nervously. “I don’t really know where to start.”

Sam tried not to look too eager, too interested but he wanted to know more about Dean. He wanted to know how he got into hunting, what his life was like before all this, how he and Nick got started, what he liked to eat, what his favorite color was, what music he listened to, everything. “Just wherever you’re comfortable with,” Sam said.

“Ok,” Dean took a deep breath. “My name is Dean Singer. I was adopted by a man named Bobby Singer and his wife Karen. They’re uh both dead now,” Dean said, rubbing his hands on his jeans. “Nick um actually saved me. Karen was possessed by a demon and she, she killed Bobby.”

He was shaking and Sam found himself scooting over and placing a gentle hand over his. Dean looked up at him with wide eyes. He smiled and it was one of the most beautiful smiles Sam had ever seen.

“Demon possession is a rough thing, kid,” Rufus said. “Sorry you had to find your way into _the_ life like that.”

“Well it was certainly no field day watching my adoptive father get gutted by my adoptive mother,” Dean said with a shaky laugh. 

Sam squeezed his hand hoping to convey comfort. “You don’t have to share any more if you don’t want to,” Sam told him.

“No, no, I have to. I owe you guys. You saved me,” Dean said. “So yeah, my name’s Dean Singer. My parents are dead and the asshole you saved me from used to be my boyfriend.”

“Was it...all consensual then?” Sam asked.

“At first,” Dean said. “We had a contract and I had a safeword. The first couple years were good. He taught me how to hunt and we’d have sex and it was this weird no strings attached kind of thing, we needed to let off steam, you know? It just seemed more convenient than stopping at a bar and bringing someone new back to a motel every time. Plus he was lonely, I think. When we first met. He has this big property somewhere in Maine he’d sometimes take me to, said he inherited it. I remember first walking in there and thinking, ‘wow, it’s huge’. It was also lonely.”

Sam was leaning over as he listened with rapt attention. He almost forgot about the contract, feeling the folded paper in his back pocket still. He fished it out and held it out for Dean to see. “Is this the contract? Take it. It’s yours.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said, taking it from him slowly. He unfolded it and looked it over before ripping it in half. “Thanks again for saving me.” Sam watched as Dean stood up.

“What are you going to do now?” Sam asked, swallowing the lump suddenly in his throat. He didn’t want Dean to leave but he couldn’t stop him, wouldn’t stop him. Sam wasn’t going to force Dean to stay if he didn’t want to. He wasn’t going to be like that bastard. 

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted honestly.

Rufus looked between the two of them with a sigh. “You’re both welcome to stay here as long as you want. Just get me some more of the scotch if you decide to go on a run.”

Sam smiled as Dean glanced between them nervously. “Thanks, Rufus,” Sam said sincerely. 

“Thanks,” Dean said. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome though.”

Rufus snorted and waved off Dean’s concern. “Nonsense, boy. Any friend of Sammy’s is a friend of mine.”

Dean looked at Sam. There was the golden question right there. Were they friends?


	16. housing monsters

The first week went by awkwardly. Dean told him he wanted space and Sam tried to give it to him. He let Dean take the bedroom and made a bed out of the couch downstairs. It wasn’t all that comfy but he respected Dean’s choices, and Dean as a person. Sure it hurt because he felt something for Dean and he rescued him from Nick and he pulled him out of his head, but it was Dean’s choice. The ball was in his court, not Sam’s. And Sam could wait. He would wait as long as he needed.

Then one night as he tried to fall asleep on the couch, he heard Dean screaming. It was earth-shatteringly loud and he was up and on his feet before he could think and he heard Rufus getting up from his room as well. They were both by Dean’s door in a heartbeat, exchanging worried looks with each other.

Sam opened the door and found Dean tossing and turning, his hair drenched in sweat, his eyes squeezed shut. He was mumbling and moaning and Sam could see the panic in his movements. It was a bad dream, an awful nightmare. Sam knew from experience, had nightmares of his own when he had been alone for the first time since John died. Maybe they weren’t from the same thing, couldn’t quite be compared because one was from years of abuse and another was from months of loneliness, but Sam did have _experience_ in nightmares. Knew that god awful feeling of helplessness when he was being chased by something that couldn’t be killed because it wasn’t real but it was real enough in that moment.

He walked over slowly, cautiously as Rufus stood frozen by the entrance of the room, almost scared that if he made one move out of place Dean would wake up screaming and thrashing. Or maybe he was scared Dean wouldn’t wake up at all. Sam hesitated for a moment before sitting down on the edge of the bed. He could barely make out what Dean was saying.

“ _...master, please…_ ”

There were tears spilling from his closed eyes and Sam desperately wanted to shake him awake. But he knew Dean had a gun under his pillow - they all did - and he didn’t really want to be on the other end of it. He shifted a little on the bed, trying to find a better perch.

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” Dean was mumbling, turning again so that he was facing Sam.

It hurt to see Dean like this, so vulnerable and in pain, at his lowest moment. It felt like Sam shouldn’t be here and suddenly he was having second thoughts, thinking about fleeing with his tail between his legs. But as he glanced back to the door, his only exit, he saw Rufus staring at him, mouthing, ‘don’t you dare think about leaving now, Winchester. Do _something_.’

And Sam took a deep breath, turned back to Dean, and thought to himself, ‘ _Rufus is right. I can’t quit now_.’ He knew if his father was still alive he’d tell Sam, Winchesters don’t give up, son. And he’d be right. Sam wouldn’t give up here, he wouldn’t give up on Dean just because he was scared and this felt too real. He gave Dean space and now he was going to go against his wishes and save him again, because that was what Winchesters did. What Sam did.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam whispered. He took another deep breath when Dean was still moving around, unable to hear him from the nightmare he was trapped in. “Dean, wake up, it’s not real. Whatever you’re dreaming, it’s not real. It can’t hurt you,” Sam said in a louder, more confident voice.

Dean twisted under the covers in response. “ _Please_ ,” he mumbled. “ _Please, it hurts. I’m sorry_.” He started to whimper and Sam had enough. He couldn’t listen anymore to Dean’s pain.

Sam didn’t care if Dean tried to shoot him but he had to wake him up now. He got up and walked closer to Dean, reached down to shake his shoulders gently. “Wake up, Dean. You’re having a nightmare. Come on, man. It isn’t real,” he said, crouching next to him.

Dean moaned in response and Sam shook him harder. “Come on, Dean, don’t you do this to me. Not now. I just pulled you out, remember? I went into your dream and pulled you out. I saved you. Don’t make me walk in your dream again, because I will. I’ll do it a thousand times over if I have to, man. You’re not slipping away.”

Dean shot up like a light, still groggy and dazed, hands fumbling around trying to find the gun he stashed under his pillow. Sam stopped him, pulling him into a tight hug. “It’s ok, Dean. It’s ok. It was just a nightmare. There’s nothing here that can hurt you,” Sam said, leaning his head on Dean’s shoulder. He felt Dean stiffen in the embrace but Sam didn’t care because Dean was up and alert and he wasn’t stuck in a stupid dream.

He could feel the moment Dean relaxed, realizing it was just Sam and he was back in Rufus’ place. Dean slowly wrapped his arms around Sam, awkwardly returning the hug. It was all Sam could hope for. He took in the smell of conditioner and alcohol and all of Dean.

“You’re ok now, Dean,” Sam repeated quietly.

Dean didn’t say anything, just tightened his grip around Sam. Sam could hear him start to sob.


	17. this feels familiar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this is an overload.
> 
>  **warning:** Time lapses coming up in the next couple chapters. And POV changes.

After that fateful night at Rufus’ place, Dean decided he would go with Sam, at least for a little while. The dude, after all, did save Dean more than once in less than a month. He knew he didn’t actually owe Sam anything, that Sam freed him and Dean could leave any time he wanted, but something about Sam compelled Dean to stick with him. For now. Besides he was still trying to find his way again after losing so much of himself to Nick.

They had been on the road, hunting and getting to know each other for months now. Dean still had panic attacks and was still plagued with nightmares but Sam made it clear he was going to be there for Dean, and so far, he hadn’t backed out of what he said. So Dean was slowly beginning to think maybe it wasn’t so bad, being on the open road again, with someone who knew what they were doing and wouldn’t ditch Dean for an easy lay.

And whatever they had between each other, whatever Sam clearly felt for Dean, he didn’t push it. There were times when Sam looked like he was brooding, like his mind was elsewhere, but he didn’t hold the whole saving Dean over his head and demand Dean to have sex with him. It was a pleasant surprise, and Dean didn’t even realize he had his guard up around Sam, until he finally relaxed enough to let it fully drop.

“So what’s next on the radar?” Dean asked as Sam came back into the motel with a six pack and two bags of burgers and fries. He took one of the bags and pulled out a cheeseburger with double of everything. He forgot how much he loved burgers until he took a bite and it was like heaven in his mouth. He moaned as he took another bite.

When he finished his burger and started on the fries, he looked up to catch Sam grinning at him. “What? Can’t a man enjoy his burger in peace?” Dean grumbled, but there was no real heat in his voice.

Sam shook his head. “Nothing. It’s just I’ve never seen anyone get so much pleasure from eating a burger before,” Sam replied before sitting down on the bed and digging into his food. He opened a small box of salad and Dean made a face. “Hey, man, don’t judge me just because I like to eat healthy. I’m not the one who just sounded like I was having sex with a cheeseburger.”

“It was a good cheeseburger. And you can’t compare a cheeseburger to rabbit food,” Dean said. “Because that’s what you’re eating. Rabbit food.”

“Rabbit food?” Sam stared at him incredulously.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “So anyways, what’s on the agenda today?”

Sam took a bite of salad and said, “4 dead bodies by the river, all with their bodies drained dry. You tell me.”

Dean frowned, propping his legs up on the table and leaning back on his chair. “You thinking a vamp?”

Sam’s eyes twinkled. “Yeah. Ever gone against one before?”

Dean had only ever faced a vampire once and it had not been fun. It was a couple years into his relationship with Nick, after he signed the contract and basically signed his life over. Nick decided to keep Dean as a slave and used him as bait for their hunts instead of letting him be an equal. He didn’t get to hold knives or guns, couldn’t keep anything on his person that could be used as a weapon. He was defenseless and Nick liked to keep him that way. Some weird power trip he’d get knowing he could do whatever he wanted to Dean.

_“Isn’t this just precious. Looks like someone left us an easy snack,” the voice was low and sultry and sent chills down Dean’s spine._

_He was naked and tied to a chair in the abandoned warehouse where the victims had been taken. Nick was nowhere in sight and Dean was sure he was going to die here. He squeezed his eyes shut as the vampires moved from the shadows, approaching Dean slowly._

_It stopped just in front of him and Dean could feel its hot breath on his neck. He tried not to panic as he heard the fangs start to descend. He was sure he was going to die. Nick had left him because he realized Dean was more trouble than he was worth._

_Suddenly he heard a shriek and Dean opened his eyes just in time to see a machete slice cleanly through the vampire’s neck. Blood splattered on his face as Nick grinned at him, blue eyes twinkling in amusement._

_“Miss me, tiger?”_

“I get to gank the vamp, right?” Dean asked, coming out of his flashback.

He watched as Sam blinked and said, “Yeah, sure. I mean if you’re sure.” _If you can handle it._

Dean frowned and looked back to the newspaper clippings of the victims hanging on the wall. “I’m sure. This isn’t my first rodeo, Sam. I _can_ handle a vamp.”

He could hear Sam sigh from behind him. “Right. Well I’ll be there to back you up.”

Dean nodded. He appreciated Sam’s support. They ate the rest of their lunch in silence before Dean decided to stand up. “Ready to get this show on the road then?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied and stood up as well.

The vamp had been much easier than Dean thought it’d be. Now that he wasn’t sitting around naked waiting for something to come along and eat him, Dean found that working with Sam on these hunts were much more fun than he originally thought they’d be. 

They got into a rhythm and before Dean realized it, they were moving with ease and familiarity, like they had been hunting with each other their whole lives. They joked and laughed and played pranks on each other and Dean was starting to feel more at ease than he ever felt with anyone in his entire life.


	18. we're connected somehow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last 3 will come tonight.

It was easy to get used to Dean, even when he sang loudly in the shower and took all the hot water, when he got bolder and decided he would rather listen to classic rock and roll and just switched from Sam’s more country music with Metallica without even asking Sam. Sure it got annoying after a little while but it meant Dean was feeling more at ease, letting his guard down and showing Sam this was who he was. He wasn’t avoiding Sam even when he touched a hand to his shoulder to calm him down in the midst of a panic attack or waking him up from a particularly brutal nightmare.

It was like Dean was getting more comfortable in his own skin and it felt like a privilege to watch, like Sam was getting front row seats to witness something amazing. And suddenly, 8 months since Sam rescued Dean from that crappy bar in Oregon, it was like Dean was a completely different person.

He still had his moments. Still got nightmares and he’d freeze up at unwanted contact but Dean was beautiful and more confident and he walked with ease and grace and Sam wasn’t sure how anyone could resist his charming smile that brightened his face and made his freckles stand out like the sun in a bright blue, cloudless sky, his green eyes dancing with amusement any time he caught Sam daydreaming.

Dean was perfect in every way, almost too perfect and Sam wondered if he even deserved having Dean in his life.

“Earth to Sammy,” Dean’s voice was loud and Sam had to snap out of his daze, frowning when he realized they were still in the diner. Dean looked amused. “What were you thinking there, champ?” he asked, licking the syrup off his lips.

Sam really wished he would stop being so damn distracting. He looked down at his own plate of pancakes, before stabbing his fork into it. Dean had taken to calling him ‘ _Sammy_ ’ after the 6 month mark. It annoyed Sam somewhat because it made him feel like a kid again. His father used to call him ‘Sammy’ when he wanted to scold him like a 5 year old. 

Sam sighed. “Nothing, man. You ever think there might be more to life than this?” he asked suddenly, swirling the pancake in some of the syrup that was on his plate.

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked in between bites, frowning as he tried to make sense of what Sam was asking.

“Like you ever want to do more than just hunt, Dean? I mean I know you didn’t grow up in this life like I did. We’ve been hunting together for almost a year now and I don’t think you’ve ever really talked about your life, uh, before,” Sam said. He watched as Dean paused in his chewing.

After a moment, Dean shrugged and swallowed. “It never came up, I guess. I mean, I told you I was adopted when I was 8. I don’t know my parents. I just know that Bobby told me he found me near the house, crying and lost, and after trying and failing to find my real parents for almost a month, he and Karen decided to take me in. I got enrolled in school, dropped out near my senior year of high school, when Bobby almost lost the house and decided to help him fix cars and get more customers coming in.”

“Then you lost them to a demon,” Sam finished softly.

Dean sighed, dropping the fork and pushing the plate away. He looked out the window, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. “Yeah, I could’ve made something of myself, Sam. But I decided to stay to help my parents. I loved them like they’re my own parents, still do. And I mean I was 23 when the demon possessed Karen. Seemed a bit too old to go back and finish high school, you know?”

“You could’ve gone back to get your GED. You still could, you know. It’s not too late,” Sam said.

“I’m 27, dude,” he shook his head and turned back to Sam. “And besides, I’m not going to just leave you after all we’ve been through.”

“Why not?” Sam pressed. He wasn’t sure why he was trying to push Dean away, but all he could think was that Dean had a life before all this, before the demon came and ripped it away. Sam had his chance at college and decided it wasn’t for him, but Dean could get away from this, from Sam, before he got sucked in.

Dean recovered for the most part, he could go back and be a normal, functioning citizen in society again, get his GED, go to college or find a job repairing cars, find someone else to have a family with and live in a house with white picket fence, maybe get a dog or two. Whatever floated his boat. He could just leave this life behind him like it was just another chapter in a book. 

“Dude, stop it,” Dean told him firmly. “I don’t know what’s going on with you suddenly, but stop it. I’m not leaving your stupid ass behind and no, this isn’t some kind of Stockholm Syndrome thing. I’m not staying with you because I have to. I know I don’t owe you. Ok? I had a chance at a normal life and that was way before we met. I chose to stay, that was my choice. And this is also my choice. So don’t go getting a damn martyr complex on me now. It really doesn’t suit you, man.”

Sam sighed in relief, secretly glad Dean didn’t take the out. Sam took a bite of his pancakes. “Yeah, ok. Whatever. Can’t say I didn’t try, right?”

Dean just laughed. “Yeah, man. You tried alright. I’m just plain stubborn.”

Sam grinned. “Are you trying to imply I’m not stubborn?”

“Oh come on, Sam. We both know you’re stubborn as hell. But dude, you got nothing on me,” Dean said.

Sam chuckled. “Fair enough.”

Life continued as normal, or as normal as it got for a pair of wayward hunters. Which was fine with Sam because even when he pushed Dean to leave him, Dean decided to stay. So he knew, deep down, even when Dean didn’t admit out loud, he felt this deep connection they had too.


	19. who are we to each other?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **warnings:** : another time lapse, drunk moments, and the beginning of a sex scene

They were getting drunk at the motel after successfully saving a bunch of kids from getting their hearts ripped out by a pair of werewolves. Dean was singing the most awful karaoke rendition of Queen’s ‘We Will Rock You’ and Sam was laughing his ass off as he downed his fourth beer. It was probably just the heat of the moment, they were still high off the adrenaline, another win for team Singer and Winchester. And between the two of them, there had been more than 9 beer bottles so yeah, lots of alcohol too.

Sam decided to go for it, the feelings had been building up for the past year now, the connection he felt with Dean ran deeper than anything he ever felt. He leaned over and grabbed Dean on either side of his face and pulled him into a kiss. It was sloppy at first, Sam couldn’t figure out where his lips were, and Dean had froze, his singing that had been loud and obnoxious and distracting ceased almost immediately, but Sam didn’t care. He was too distracted by how pink and full and soft Dean’s lips looked, and how kissable they must have been.

The kiss deepened and Sam wasn’t sure when Dean closed his eyes and got into it the same way Sam had but he was grateful. Dean moaned under him and opened his mouth and Sam wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He darted his tongue in and tasted and explored and it felt like heaven. Dean felt amazing, like everything he dreamt of and more. He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, intertwined, pressed in a deep, passionate kiss but Sam knew it couldn’t last forever.

They eventually broke free and Sam took a deep breath, watching as Dean leaned back, taking in a couple breaths himself.

“Wow,” Dean said.

“Wow?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure what they were doing but he wanted to continue it. They could always blame the alcohol tomorrow morning.

“I uh...just wow,” Dean repeated, dazed. 

“Good ‘wow’ right?”

Dean snorted. “Is there a bad ‘wow’?”

Sam shook his head, laughing. “Guess not.” He hesitated before leaning in again and placing a hand over Dean’s. “I’m not reading this wrong, am I? Tell me you want this too, that this thing between us for the past year hasn’t been one-sided.” He watched Dean struggle internally with his emotions.

Dean’s tongue darted out to lick his lips and again Sam found himself distracted as he watched the movement. Dean was beautiful, always had been, but the more confident he had gotten on hunts, the more swagger he put in his steps, the more Sam realized he wouldn’t be able to let Dean go. Maybe this selfish part of himself made him a bad person, but he didn’t care. The kiss had confirmed what he already knew.

“Why, Sammy, are you asking me to have sex with you?” Dean asked, looking at Sam through his lashes.

“I’m asking for more than that, Dean,” Sam said, his heart pounding in his chest. It came out almost as a plea. He had never felt so vulnerable as that moment, waiting for Dean to either accept him or reject him.

Sam could see the hesitance as Dean thought it over. Then he leaned forward and bumped their heads together, smiling as he said, “Ok. Let’s try it.”

They didn’t have sex that night. Sam had been way too drunk to get it up and Dean was fine with just falling asleep right there in jeans and a tee shirt. Sam sighed as he closed his eyes and soon found himself dreaming of living in a house with Dean, having wild sex all the time that involved Dean naked and on his knees while he sucked Sam off.

Things were good for a week. They found another hunt and saved people from a rugaru. Then they had sex, or tried.

It had been Dean’s idea. Sam didn’t want to push it. Dean needed to come to him.

“So I’ve been thinking about this all week,” Dean started and Sam sat up, putting down the book he had been reading about vampires. Dean rubbed the back of his neck, something he did when he was nervous. Sam watched as Dean licked his lips, took a deep breath to calm himself, and said, “I know we just got into...this relationship or whatever, but I thought about it long and hard. And I’d really like to do this thing for you, Sammy.”

Sam immediately opened his mouth to tell him he didn’t have to do whatever he thought he had to do. This wasn’t going to be a one-sided relationship where Dean was expected to please Sam whenever Sam wanted. Dean held up his hand though and Sam closed his mouth, swallowing visibly instead, suddenly nervous as well.

“I want to do this. I like doing this,” Dean said softly, walking over to the bed Sam was sitting on.

“What is it that you want to do?” Sam asked after a moment, watching Dean kneel next to the bed.

“I want to suck you off,” Dean replied.

Sam licked his lips. He wanted that too, imagined that moment where Dean was on his knees, looking at him with eyes filled with lust, pink lips stretched almost obscenely wide around Sam’s girth. Sam moaned at the image and swung his legs over the side of the bed, wide enough for Dean to fit between them.

“Yeah, ok,” Sam said, feeling his arousal travel down to his dick. He unzipped his pants and got his half hard cock out. He watched as Dean’s eyes darkened, his cheeks flushing as he stared distractedly at Sam’s dick. Sam took advantage of the moment and reached out to grab the top of Dean’s head. “Lick it,” Sam whispered.

Dean’s eyes widened and hesitating for only a second, he leaned forward to lick the head of Sam’s cock. Sam moaned at the heat of Dean’s tongue. “Keep going,” he said when Dean paused.

Dean’s movements started off jerky and unsure, but Sam was able to encourage him to continue and soon, Dean was deep-throating Sam like he’d been doing this his whole life. Sam had closed his eyes, losing himself to the sensation of Dean’s tongue, to the heat of his mouth, when suddenly it was all gone and he heard coughing and wheezing and Sam had to open his eyes to see Dean bent over, looking one minute away from bursting.

Sam didn’t even think, scrambling off the bed and slinging an arm over Dean’s shoulder, while pressing his other hand gently on Dean’s stomach. “Hey, hey, Dean. Breathe for me, ok?” Sam heard himself babbling. “You’re ok, dude. You’re having a panic attack, I think. Just take deep breaths man. Just in and out and count each time you’re taking a breath until you reach 10, got it?”

Dean did and it seemed to help. Sam watched him gather himself. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder and Dean looked up at him, a forced smile on his face. “Thanks. I, uh...I think I’m ok now.”

“Are you sure?” Sam asked worriedly.

“Yeah, man. Sorry about that,” Dean apologized.

Sam shook his head. “Nothing to apologize for.” He paused for a moment before adding, “If you’re not ready, you don’t have to do this.”

Dean sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said again.

Sam just shrugged, trying to hide the disappointment he felt. He zipped his pants back up and sat back down on the bed.

“I’m going to grab a shower,” Dean told him.

“Sure. Save some hot water for me,” Sam said as he watched Dean head to the bathroom. 

Sam felt like he should’ve known better. Dean had been abused for 4 years at least. He had been degraded and treated like a slave and not like a person, made to feel like he was nothing. So of course he’d have some hangups, come in with baggage. Sam was just so stupid.

The next morning was eerily quiet. Sam woke up to an empty bed and he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised after the turn of events the prior night, but it was still weird. He sat up straight and looked around to see a note on the nightstand next to him. It was in Dean’s crude handwriting, written quickly and in cursive.

_Hey Sammy,  
Don’t panic. Just left to take care of something I should’ve done a while ago. Be back soon. If I’m not back by tonight, don’t wait up. Love ya, man. You’ve been the best thing I’ve had, since ever, and I know that ain’t saying much but...well that’s all I got.  
Yours,  
Dean_

Sam read it again and again just to make sure he was reading it correctly. It sounded almost like a farewell letter. He crumpled the note, and shot out of bed, grabbing his jacket and keys. He had a sinking suspicion he knew where Dean was headed to.

Dean wasn’t going to leave him, not like this.


	20. Dean, the slayer of nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onto the epilogue.
> 
>  **warnings:** Flashbacks, violence and death.

Dean knew the only way he could move forward was to end the cause of his nightmares. Maybe it wouldn’t free him instantly, maybe he’d still have nightmares for days, weeks, maybe even months, but he knew with the knowledge of his-of the _monster_ out there, it wasn’t helping him any. So he had to do this. He took a deep breath, touched the gun clipped to his belt just to remind himself he was not coming in unarmed. He was Dean Singer, son of Bobby Singer who was murdered by his possessed wife.

He was Dean Singer, an expert hunter. He was Dean Singer, no longer a slave to his nightmares. He was a free man. He could feel his hands tremble as he drove up to the god forsaken house that he had nightmares about. He took a shuddering breath as he parked the truck on the curb. What was it that Sam taught him when he was on the verge of having a panic attack?

Right. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. One. He took another, exhaling even slower. Two. He continued to take breaths until he reached ten. He could do this. He was Dean Singer. He fought monsters, maybe not all his life like Sam, but people told him he was good. Sam even praised him once. He could do this.

He turned the engine off and unbuckled his seat belt and then climbed out of the truck. He could imagine Nick sitting in nothing but his bathrobe, reading some stupid book that was above Dean’s comprehension with that stupid sadistic grin on his face as he pat the top of his head like he was a goddamn dog.

_“There, there, Dean-o. Just sit there and look pretty for your master. I didn’t get into this relationship for your brain,” Nick chuckled as he pet Dean’s head._

_Dean had bowed his head in shame, sniffling as tears started to spill. Nick had changed since they became more intimate between hunts. He liked humiliating Dean, liked taunting him about dropping out of high school to help Bobby with fixing cars. He liked making Dean feel inferior._

Dean shook off the flashback. It wasn’t the time for that. He took another deep breath and took long, purposeful strides up the steps. He was going to put a stop to these motherfucking nightmares, or die trying. He took out the lock-pick he had stashed inside his boot and picked the door open. It swung wide and Dean walked in.

 _This is for the shit you made me endure because you’re a sadistic freak_ , Dean thought as he took out his gun and swept the dark, empty room. He walked slowly up the winding stairs. He remembered having to kneel at the bottom, naked, submissive the way Nick liked. The waiting had always been the worst.

Dean walked to the bedroom and opened the door as quietly as he could. He opened it just wide enough for him to squeeze through without making a sound. Even through the darkness he could see the figure on the bed. He aimed his gun at the bed and flicked the light on.

Bright light flooded in and Dean had to blink a few times to adjust to the change. Nick shot awake and grabbed his gun from under his pillow. The asshole always had been paranoid but knowing the work they did, Dean really couldn’t fault him. He watched as Nick blinked a couple times, the grogginess in his eyes fading as he looked around, before he finally saw Dean standing at the entrance with a gun aimed at his head.

A wide smile spread on his face as he took Dean in. “Well, well, looks like the mutt finally came back. Just as I predicted,” Nick said.

“I didn’t come back to continue our relationship,” Dean snapped.

“So you’re here to kill me then?” Nick asked, looking amused even with a gun pointed at his head.

Dean hated the way his hands trembled as he held the gun. What was wrong with him? He could end the nightmares right here. This was the reason he came back. Dean took a deep breath. He could feel his heart racing.

“You’re not a killer, Dean-o. We both know this,” Nick continued, noticing the weakness. Of course Nick knew all Dean’s weaknesses. He always used them against Dean. He always won. But not this time. Not ever again.

Dean steadied his hand. “For me to be a killer, you’d have to be human first. You’re a monster, Nick. Always have been.” He pressed down, hard, putting all his strength in it and squeezed his eyes shut. The shot rang out, the sound vibrating through Dean’s ears.

Dean opened his eyes to see Nick fall forward, a look of surprise on his face as Dean shot him in the head. It was over. It was finally over. Dean dropped the gun and slumped against the wall and curled into a ball, his arms wrapping protectively over his knees. He leaned his head on top, wondering what was going to happen now. 

The neighbors probably heard the gun, it wasn’t quiet and Nick’s property was located in an upper class neighborhood. He used to brag about how rich his grandparents had been to Dean all the time. It was why he didn’t care that he didn’t get paid as a hunter. He had everything he would ever need passed down to him. Dean sighed, he could feel tears trying to slip through. He wasn’t sure why he was crying.

It felt like he’d been sitting there for hours when Sam came barging in. Dean could hardly believe he was even there, looming over Dean like a giant. He crouched down in front of Dean and touched his head to Dean’s. They were so close, Dean could smell the faint trace of shampoo and cigarettes.

“I killed the monster, Sammy,” Dean whispered.

Sam nodded and touched his cheek. “You sure did, Dean.”

“It was good, right? I did good?” Dean asked, feeling small and childish. He looked over to the slumped body with second thoughts.

“Yeah. You did real good,” Sam agreed. They sat there quietly for a few minutes. Dean liked how Sam smelled, liked the feel of Sam. “We’ve got to get out of here, Dean.”

Dean felt himself pulled up after a moment. He looked down and saw the gun he used, hesitating before bending over to pick it up. There was no way he was leaving it behind. Sam watched him as he put the safety back on and clipped back to his belt.

“I’m not a killer, am I?” Dean asked as he followed Sam out.

Sam smiled, his eyes softening as he glanced back at Dean. “No you’re not, Dean.” He climbed into the driver’s side of the truck while Dean slid in on the other side. “We’re going to hide the truck and then go to the impala.”

“Did you follow me in the impala?” Dean asked curiously.

Sam nodded and peeled out of the neighborhood. They heard sirens in the distance. They drove off into the outskirts of town and dumped the truck. Dean frowned, realizing Sam had to walk a long way to follow him. They switched to the impala quickly.

“I put a tracker on your phone,” Sam said when he noticed the confusion on Dean’s face. “Plus I just got this hunch where you were going. Especially after last night.”

Dean sighed. “I was that obvious?”

Sam snorted. “Can’t get much more obvious than the note you left me.”

“Right,” Dean said. He remembered writing that note late last night when Sam was asleep, before slipping out. Part of him, he thought, wanted Sam to find him.

They drove through backroads and Dean leaned against the window, watching the stars in the night sky. Sam would glance at him every so often, before they finally came to a stop on the side of a quiet country road, a large grassy field fenced off with an old looking farmhouse in the distance. Dean blinked as Sam killed the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt.

Dean followed suit and they both got out of the car. “What’s going on, Sammy?” Dean asked hesitantly.

“Just figured it’s a gorgeous night out. No clouds in sight and you can see the stars for miles,” Sam replied, walking around the car to the trunk. He fished out a 6 pack of beer they bought earlier. “You like stargazing, don’t you?”

Dean raised an eyebrow as Sam handed him a beer. “Yeah, I do. Thanks.” He twisted the cap off and watched as Sam took out a beer and did the same. “I thought you don’t drink.”

“I don’t usually. But this is a special occasion,” Sam said before downing half the beer.

Dean grinned as Sam came up for breath, coughing. “Yeah you’re definitely not much of a drinker,” he said and chugged his own beer.

Dean looked up at the stars. Nights like these made hunting worth it to him. “I’ve been thinking about, uh, this thing between us,” Dean said slowly. He could feel Sam’s eyes boring into his back.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d like to give it another shot, if you’re willing to,” Dean said.

“Of course,” Sam said quickly.

“There will be a few conditions though,” Dean continued. “Like I don’t know if I can jump straight into a dom/sub relationship right away.”

“I can wait,” Sam told him.

Dean turned to look at Sam. “And I can’t promise that it’ll be easy. I’ll get flashbacks and probably still have nightmares.”

“I’ll be here, Dean. I’ll help you,” Sam said calmly.

Dean smiled. “So you won’t leave even if we have to take things slow for a while?” 

“Of course I won’t leave you,” Sam scoffed, like he couldn’t believe Dean actually said that. “I don’t care how long I have to wait.”

“Even if it takes years?” Dean pressed.

“Even if it takes years,” Sam confirmed.

“Even if we grow up gray and old?”

“Even if we grow up gray and old,” Sam laughed.

“Ok then,” Dean said with a sigh.

“We’re good?” Sam asked.

“We’re good.”

“Great. Wait here then,” Sam said and rushed to the backseat. He came back with an old camera. Dean laughed.

“Really, Sam?”

“Really,” Sam said seriously. He went to stand next to Dean, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “Now smile, Dean.”

The picture came out better than Dean expected. Dean had on his cheesiest smile, his green eyes sparkling with amusement as Sam pressed his cheek against his with an equally wide grin that seemed to light up his face with life and happiness. Dean sighed as they sat on the hood of the impala and watched the stars. He could say without a doubt this was the happiest he had ever been in a long, long time. Sitting here sharing a beer with Sam Winchester just felt _right_.


	21. Epilogue

_3 YEARS LATER_

Jo was waiting tables at the Roadhouse, filling in for her mom, Ellen Harvelle. For the most part, she liked working here. Sure the hunters could be a little rowdy and obnoxious as they laughed and joked about hunting werewolves and vamps and the occasional demons and they drank a lot more than the average Joe, but Jo has gotten used to the hunting community, grew up in it thanks to her dad. She smiled as she slid another cold beer to a fellow named Garth. Guy didn’t look like much, skinny as a stick with average brunette hair but Jo heard he was good.

Good hunter and from the conversations she had with the guy, he was a good person too. He wasn’t like many of the other hunters that came by, all gruff and old and had those eyes that saw too much and kept too many secrets. She liked Garth.

“What brings you out here?” she asked as Garth chugged the beer like it was nothing.

He looked up at her with a stupid grin on his face and Jo walked around the bar to sit next to him. “I found someone,” he whispered to her like it was a secret. Maybe it was.

Jo just smiled and said, “Oh yeah? Who is it?”

Garth looked around and looked back at Jo with a serious expression on his face. He didn’t look like that often so Jo decided to lean in, giving Garth all of her attention, now intrigued even more. “Don’t tell anyone, Jo,” he said and waited for her to nod. “I met her on a hunt. She was the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. But she’s a werewolf.”

And there it was. Jo raised an eyebrow as Garth looked down at his beer bottle guiltily. “I know we aren’t supposed to love the monsters we hunt, but Jo, you gotta trust me when I say that I didn’t mean to fall in love. It just happened and she’s a good person, er, werewolf,” Garth shrugged his shoulders, looking like an overgrown kid being scolded for taking cookies out of the jar without permission.

Jo almost wanted to hug him. “Look, I won’t tell anybody,” she promised him. “Love happens, right?” If there was anything she learned while watching and listening to other hunters over the years in working here, it was that the world wasn’t quite as black and white as she first thought. Garth was a good man and he was usually a good judge of character too. She patted him on the shoulder as the doors opened up and they both looked up to see two tall men walk in.

Jo had never seen the two men before. One had long dark, brown hair that curled at the ends and dark brown eyes that swept across the room in a practiced, swift motion. He wore an old, worn leather jacket over a plaid shirt and dark blue jeans. His companion was almost as tall with cropped golden hair and bright green eyes and light freckles. He was wearing a simple gray tee shirt and jeans and each step he took oozed grace and confidence.

Jo’s breath was taken away as she watched them approach the bar. They moved almost as one, like they were connected on a level that went beyond the physical plain. She had seen partners and couples before but this was different somehow. 

The blond haired man smiled and Jo could feel her heart melt. His smile lit his whole face, made him shine like a beacon in the dark. Jo could see the brunette smirk at her reaction and Jo had to clear her throat as she tried to get the words out.

“Hi, my name’s Jo. Welcome to the Harvelle Roadhouse,” she said. “What would you like today?”

“Hi, Jo,” the blond flashed another grin. “My name’s Dean Singer and that’s Sam Winchester. We’re just here for some beer, right, Sammy?”

The other man, Sam, just nodded. Jo darted to grab the beer. “Coming right up,” she said.

She heard the men talk quietly with Garth as she came back with two bottles of beer and empty glasses. She set them all down as the men took seats at the bar and poured them the beer. “Thanks, Jo,” Dean said, before taking his glass and downing it in one swift motion.

Jo nodded, watching as they drank quietly. She went to grab another beer for Garth when he asked, silently grateful to be busy, if only for a moment. She came back to the sound of Garth in the middle of conversation with them again.

“What brings you two out here? Hunting a ruguru? Or is it another werewolf? Those things have been popping up everywhere lately,” Garth was saying. He took the beer from Jo and smiled his thanks.

“Are you guys hunters?” Jo asked. She couldn’t help it. She had always been fascinated with hunters, especially the son of John Winchester. She hadn’t seen Sam personally but she heard stories from her mom and other hunters and she met his dad a couple times. In fact his dad used to hunt with Jo’s dad and was one of the reasons Jo wanted to be a hunter.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “We’re hunters. We’re actually trailing a demon this time. Got some intel one of Azazel’s followers were still alive. Figured I’d finish what I started, well what my dad started.” He looked over to Jo. “How’s your mom, Jo?”

Jo blinked. “She’s ok. It’s her night off. I was just finishing my shift actually. Ash should be here in a couple hours to relieve me.”

“Oh. Well that’s good,” Sam replied. He took a sip from his beer. “Just thought we’d stop by.”

They talked for a little bit, each deciding to exchange numbers in case any of them needed help. Jo wanted to linger longer but she had a couple more tables to keep up with as more people decided to show up. Eventually she headed back to the bar.

“I think it’s time to hit the road again,” Dean was saying as he stood up and stretched. He grinned and looked over to Sam, “Come on, Sammy. That demon ain’t gonna exorcise itself.” He was already heading to the door before Sam could move.

Sam just sighed and stood up. “Well I guess I gotta go before he decides to leave without me,” he told Jo. He slapped down a 20. “Keep the change and tell your mom I said hi,” he said. He smiled at her. “See ya later, Jo.”

“Bye,” Jo said. She watched as the two left. She looked over to Garth who was still staring at the door. He looked curiously forlorn and she wondered if Garth must have known them. “So, you work with them before?”

Garth turned to look at Jo. He sighed. “Yeah. They were there to help me in a pinch. They’re good hunters. Good people.”

“Yeah,” Jo said absently. They had been composed and graceful and just fit together like two halves to a puzzle. She picked up the 20 dollar bill still sitting on the bar.

She sighed to herself. Sam and Dean really did live up to the stories she heard. Beautiful. Mysterious. Dangerous. She looked down at the bill in her hand. Her mom would probably want to know Sam Winchester came by today, along with Dean Singer. 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for sticking with me all the way. Thank you all for all the awesome comments! I'm happy to have written this story and to have finished it. Update: I'm expanding this.


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